


Between The Lines

by Sacred_Trickster (The_Divine_Fool)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Fluff, Food, Humor, Language, M/M, Madness, Magic, Smoking, Storytelling, Surrealism, Water 7, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Divine_Fool/pseuds/Sacred_Trickster
Summary: “Come on. You’ll catch a cold.”Lame,he thought, and waited for the punchline. When it didn’t come, Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro lifted his eyes, fifty freaking shades of suspicious; because Sanji’s hand had left behind the silk-lined pocket lint it lived inside, it was outstretched toward him, and -- even more astonishing -- it seemed to be waiting for him to touch it.“Who are you?” Zoro demanded.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 33
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately post episode 224, "The Memory Thief's Counterattack" -- because  
> right at the end they show Sanji offering Zoro a hand and saying 'you'll catch a cold' and it is literally the last thing i ever expected a grown and deadly man to say to another grown and deadly man.
> 
> ***DIALOGUE STRAIGHT FROM THE SCRIPT IS IN ITALICS*** 
> 
> it's just a few lines, to button everything together.

_“Come on. You’ll catch a cold.”_

_Lame,_ he thought, and waited for the punchline. When it didn’t come, Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro lifted his eyes, fifty freaking shades of suspicious; because Sanji’s hand had left behind the silk-lined pocket lint it lived inside, it was outstretched toward him, and -- even more astonishing -- it seemed to be waiting for him to touch it. 

“Who are you?” Zoro demanded.

Was this the cook’s way of apologizing? He wondered. For what? They’d all lost their memories. They’d _all_ decided the crew was better off without him, not just Sanji. He couldn’t blame them, either -- Zoro booted him _self_ off the boat ten seconds after waking up in the crow’s nest with a black smear where the memory of the last ten months should’ve been. The others, different as they all were, still managed to put their heads together and cooperate long enough to identify their enemy. And where was Zoro? Off getting himself brain-stuffed by a ten-year-old with a gift shop seahorse. 

It was fucking embarrassing, is what it was. Greatest swordsman in the world? _Pfft!_ If he couldn’t get his damned head fungus under control, his slicing and dicing days were over; he’d sheathe his swords forever if he hurt one of his friends with them again. 

It was abruptly obvious to Zoro that the others didn’t care for him. As the first member of Luffy’s crew he was more or less a permanent fixture in everyone’s lives, but mere presence didn’t mean shit once their memories were erased. Either out of sloth, selfishness, or pure stupidity, Zoro hadn’t put any effort into actually _belonging_. Of course the rest of the crew would prefer to see the pirate hunter tossed overboard -- the longest he could cooperate with any of them on a _nor_ mal day was ten seconds. He couldn’t help it. Zoro wasn’t a _coop_ ative guy. He was a loner, a bounty hunter, a monster on the run -- he had _green hair_ , for fuck’s sake. Trouble was hardwired into his _DNA_. 

The cook’s shadow eased over him. Zoro remembered he was still standing chest-deep in the bowl of a tossing tidepool.

Sanji’s hand fell away. He dipped to a crouch at the water’s edge. “Listen, stranger.” He lit a cigarette. “You should really join our crew.”

Was he messing around? Zoro growled, ready to snap: “I’m already _part_ of the crew.”

Sanji snapped first. “Then start acting like it.” Smoke trickled like murky tap-water over the brink of a disappointed scowl. He stuck his hand out again. “Come on.”

The swordsman stared. He couldn’t remember the cook being nice to him even once before this whole fiasco -- but, maybe his memories weren’t all back in order yet, or something. He reached out, clasped his crewmate’s arm, and allowed himself to be hauled free, dripping wet, confused, still waiting for the punchline, a snort, or a kick -- none of which ever came. Sanji ruffled his hair and that was insulting enough.

By the time all six members of the Straw Hat crew left the island and settled back on the _Going Merry_ , the tides were high and laughing halfway up her battered sides. The sun dozed half-submerged in faraway amber straits. Everyone had a story to tell -- a different version of the day’s strange events -- Luffy had about ten. In every version, Zoro is the idiot. 

He didn’t care, but he did care a little bit. As usual, Sanji sees his weakness and tenderizes it whenever the opportunity arises. 

_“Special mention goes to a certain simpleton who allowed his mind and body to be taken over by a neurotic seahorse -- ”_

_“What!”_

_“If you’d kept watch like you were supposed to, then none of this mess would have happened in the first place.”_ He concluded. _“Stupid moss-head.”_

 _“Shut up!”_ Even if Zoro _had_ stayed awake the previous night and retained all his memories, it’s not like anybody would’ve believed him; they barely believed Robin! _“I was tired, okay?”_

_“Well if you’re that tired, why don’t you sleep forever!”_

_Lame!_ They were both charging headlong into a fight, teeth bared, and Zoro had already resolved to show their skinny cook what a _real_ comeback looked like when Nami slapped him out of it. _“Shove it!”_ She physically forced them apart. _“Enough bickering! Or else you’ll be getting another dose of amnesia!”_

 _“Aw, come on, Nami.”_ Sanji melted in her presence. _“Don’t say such mean things.”_

Dinner was boiled salt-beef, carrot and leek pasties, steamed suet pudding with currants, raisins, cardamom, allspice, and ginger. For dessert, coffee from actual beans, Nami’s tangerines, and biscuits made from wholemeal flour, water and salt.

The kids dropped off one by one: Chopper, then Usopp to take first watch. The captain retired, finally -- Zoro couldn’t look at his chest anymore, or the scissor-shaped scar slashed across it. Robin left to read in her study, and Nami followed. Sanji pursued the women until they shut doors in his face, then lingered on the deck long enough to finish off another cigarette. 

Down in the galley, the lamps burned low. Weak umber flames peaked and buckled with the movement of the _Merry_ at anchor. Zoro stretched his legs out, tucked his hands behind his neck and closed his eyes. The hearty 'recuperative supper' had completely immobilized him. It was a good feeling, to be part of a crew, and back on the ship again -- full on good food, fresh night air, faint sounds of the others gamboling above -- 

“Shit!” A curse in the gloom. Sanji stumbled over Zoro’s legs on his way through the galley, caught himself, and continued to the kitchen. The swordsman cracked one eye.

“Popskull?”

“Yes please.” Zoro grinned to himself. He’d been waiting for booze all day.

 _Clink!_ Glasses chattered together. With a lazy dip of his wrist the cook poured two perfect shots, and settled into a seat across the table. 

“What are you drinking to?” It was near midnight and Sanji’s smoker’s rasp downturned to its darkest decibel. 

Zoro paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. No snide remark about drinking to forget? He pondered his question. Cheap bootleg whiskey whirlpooled under his nose; it was so potent you could asphyxiate on just the fumes, probably. “To the ones we’ve lost,” he decided, and knocked his head back. 

Two empty glasses _thunk_ ed back on the wood. Sanji poured another round. Zoro pitched the second shot at the back of his throat, but the cook nursed his a while. 

“Sorry,” he said eventually. “About today.”

“S’no big deal,” Zoro shrugged. “I know I don’t belong here, exactly.”

“Huh? What are you talking about, _marimo?_ I mean I’m sorry for kicking you. I put everything I had into that attack. It probably hurt.”

 _Oh?_ Oh yeah, Zoro remembered now. A kick that would’ve sliced a lesser man in half -- the shockwave alone had left a crater in the earth under his feet. “I forgot that even happened,” he admitted, and pushed at the collar of his shirt. His right shoulder was trying a new thing: angry, black and swollen. 

Sanji swore again. “Damn!” He was laughing. “That’s disgusting. I’m sorry, man. After travelling together so long, it’s easy to forget how creepy you are -- no wonder people think you’re a demon in human form.”

“Maybe they’re right.”

He finally took the shot. Zoro was still waiting around for his third. 

“It’s weird,” the cook mused. “All it took was a couple of memories going missing, and suddenly we all hated each other. Right after all that Davy Back bullshit, too.”

“It’s not weird. We’re pirates. We’re not likable people.”

Sanji smiled a little coldly. He poured more whiskey. “What’s holding us together, then?”

“Loyalty,” Zoro answered. Again he didn’t waste time before hurling the shot directly into his stomach -- fuel to the flame. He was finally getting a buzz on. “To Luffy.”

“You think it’s that simple?”

“There’s nothing simple about it.”

“I guess not.” Sanji sighed, toyed with his glass. “I just thought maybe there was more to it.”

“More like what?”

“I don’t know. Sense memory. We lost our conscious memories, right, but our bodies were just the same. _I_ didn’t remember getting thunderstruck by a lunatic god on Skypiea, but my body must have.”

“What’s your point?”

He leaned back. Warm shadow pooled deep in his collarbone. Sanji had taken to wearing _T-shirts_ , lately. Zoro only noticed because for some reason they fought twice as often. “I’m just surprised it all fell apart so quickly,” he grumbled. 

_Skrriit!_ The rasp of a match over a strip of red phosphorus -- in the darkness, a spark was born, devouring the cook’s uncovered eye. When the small flame winked out, Zoro’s crewmate transformed into twisting columns of smoke and one wavering pinprick of light -- _Who’s the demon, now?_ He thought, looking away. He noticed his glass had refilled itself. Sanji didn’t usually help him get drunk. Or did he? Zoro couldn’t remember. 

“I mean, don’t you ever get the feeling you’re in the right place? Like something’s meant to be?”

“Are you talking about Nami, you twit? For the last time, you’re not her type.”

“No -- what?” Sanji stopped short. Anger shot his voice a few octaves higher. “What would you know about it!”

“More than you, apparently!” Zoro chuckled. “Trust me -- you’ve got some extra equipment that girl is not interested in.”

“Extra… ” His vision glazed. “You mean, Nami is… ?”

“Now you’re catching on.”

Sanji worked through several visible phases of denial, each accompanied by a series of eyebrow movements Zoro found more entertaining than the cook’s heartbreak, until finally, his crewmate seemed to reach his own conclusion; he swallowed his third shot, tapped a long gray worm of burning ash into the glass, and shoved it away with an air of finality. 

“I don’t believe you yet.”

“That’s fine.” Zoro shrugged, but he was grinning, popskulled into a good mood and lured into comfort by the familiarity of an argument with the only other nineteen-year-old dude on board the ship. “But don’t pretend you’ve never caught her talking like a dirty old man.”

“I, _never -- !”_

“Read between the lines, cook. While you were proposing to that sexy bartender on the last island, Nami was trying to hire her to replace you.”

“How do you even remember that?” He snapped. Doubt creased his brow, eased into suspicion, then realization. “Three-sword _bas_ tard. You’ve been waiting for this moment to crush me.”

“No, look -- ” Zoro bit his tongue, tried to hide his amusement. “I really, _don’t_ care. Go ahead and try for it. Just know I’ll be laughing every time she rejects you.”

“I hate you.”

Finally the pirate hunter lost his shit and laughed. He didn’t know why, but those words from the cook’s mouth made him deliriously happy.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” said Sanji. “If I dote on the ladies a little bit extra, it’s because they deserve it.”

“Oh really?” Zoro wiped a tear from his eye. “So, explain to me why our witch navigator deserves five meals a day and _special consideration_ snacks for her hair and nails while the rest of us are stuck with breakfast and dinner?”

“Don’t be ungrateful. Nami is smart, and beautiful, and the best navigator in the world, so obviously, as the chef of this crew, I’m responsible for maintaining her well-being -- ”

“Okay, you’ve told me all the good things about her, now imagine for one second, our navigator is not an eighteen-year-old woman with a gigantic rack -- imagine Nami as a man.”

Sanji furrowed his brow. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

“Because suddenly you’re gonna see a scheming, self-centered and foul-mouthed little thief who uses you like a handkerchief instead of a potential lap dance.”

“How _dare_ you!”

“Am I _wrong?_ ”

“If you’re suggesting that I only notice positive qualities in the opposite sex, then yes, you are completely out of line!”

“Prove it.”

“Fine! I -- ” Sanji tapped more ash in his abandoned shot glass. “Okay, take you for example, moss-head. Even if you were some ferocious, anti-social, directionally challenged _female_ ronin… ”

He trailed off. 

Zoro upended his glass again, but only one burning drop hit the roof of his mouth. Oh well. He lost count how many he’d had, anyway. 

“Sanji -- ”

The cook jolted. He tapped the cigarette again. “Wait, I’m still thinking about it.”

Zoro leaned over his elbows. “Dude, your nose is bleeding.”

“Crap!” Sanji hissed, jumped out of his seat and fled to the kitchen, leaving the burning ass of his cigarette balanced over the shot glass, a spot of blood on the filter. He acted like a gangster-cook from a whole ship full of gangster-cooks but really Sanji was pretty fucking lame. 

“Yeah, uh, that happens when I drink alcohol, sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.”

He sniffed and rubbed at his nose, reclaiming his seat and his cigarette. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Don’t worry, cook. Someday you’ll be able to handle your liquor. When you’re older, maybe.”

“You’re the same age as me, asshole!”

“I’m taller.”

Sanji’s visible eye narrowed. “ _No_ you’re not.”

“Am too!”

“We’re the same height!”

“Only with your dance shoes on!”

And that was how the two foremost fighters of the Straw Hat crew ended up barefoot in the galley in the middle of the night, shuffling back to back arguing, trying to figure out who was taller. In the end, it was Zoro, by a barely noticeable fraction of an inch. 

Sanji grouched. The swordsman gloated over his victory, then his gaze settled on the table. “I could split this table into two perfect halves, with just my hands.”

“I could split it in quarters with my foot!”

“Then I’ll make it into eighths!”

“Not without a sword you won’t!”

“Watch me!” Zoro pressed his palms together and took a deep breath. “ _No-Sword Style_ \-- ”

“Wait!” Sanji jumped in front of him at the last second. Crazy cook clearly had no fear of death. “Wait a minute, man. We got in so much trouble last time we played this game.”

“Hn?” Zoro narrowed his eyes. For a second he couldn’t remember what the heck he was doing. Why was he crouching like this? What was he preparing to attack? The _table?_ They ate all their meals on that thing!

“You’re right,” he decided. “I can’t remember what happened the last time we played Who Can Break It Better, but I know it was bad.”

“We should go topside.”

“Fine.” Zoro snatched up his glass and buried his last shot of the night, eyeing the table because it got lucky _this_ time -- the swordsman’s idea of fun usually came down to blood or splinters. He mounted the ladder back to the deck. “You just don’t want me in your galley.”

“That’s exactly right, moss-head. Nami doesn’t leave enough in the budget to afford repairs after _ev_ ery night of your reckless drinking.”

Zoro paused on the last rung. He looked back. “You don’t have to stay up with me, you know. If you don’t want -- ”

“I _don’t_ want to,” the cook growled. “Just like I don’t want to be having this conversation with your ass, right now. Move it!”

The pirate hunter leapt on deck. After a moment’s hesitation he offered his hand down the hole. “You didn’t have to look,” he muttered.

Instead of grabbing his arm or his elbow or punching him in the jaw, Sanji clapped his palm flush against Zoro’s, curled his fingers around the hinge of his thumb and pulled himself the rest of the way up. “I’m a man, aren’t I?” 

A flume of second-hand smoke hit Zoro dead-on and he released his crewmate’s hand, baffled. 

“And call it paranoia, but,” Sanji went on. “After nearly losing my identity to a magic trick last night… I can’t sleep. Besides, I’d feel a little bit responsible, leaving you so drunk up here.”

“I’m not drunk. Stop moving around!”

“You’re swaying, bud.” He smiled on one side, roguish. “I guess I should’ve cut you off.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I needed to get that swill out of my larder, first of all. And,” Sanji rubbed the back of his neck. His cigarette burned out. Voice sunk into its smokiest tenor, he grunted: “Today bothered me.”

“Which part?”

“ _All_ of it,” he huffed. “The crew came close to breaking apart today, doesn’t that bother you? How are we going to make it up the Grand Line if we can’t even trust each other? Loyalty to Luffy might be what got us on this ship, but it isn’t everything. The _marines_ have loyalty by the galleon-full -- it takes more than that to make a crew. At least, I thought so. I thought we were more than just three swords and a couple of bad attitudes.”

“Nope, that’s it.” The pirate hunter chuckled. “The only difference between the Straw Hats and a marine crew is we’re three swords and a bunch of bad attitudes that always manage to make it out alive.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” The cook cracked another smile. “We did alright. I liked your role as random drowning dude in particular.”

“Shut up -- that seahorse balloon fucker really pissed me off!”

“You didn’t remember your own _name_ and it was pissing you off,” Sanji recalled, chuckling. “What a riot.”

“Memory-eating inflating dragon,” muttered the swordsman. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I still can’t get its honking voice out of my head; it was like one of those airy vegetable farts that never comes quietly.”

The absurdity finally got to him and Sanji laughed. 

Zoro grinned. “I’ll have to ask Chopper to translate next time I cut a good one.”

“Shut up!” The cook sputtered. He hammered the wood railing. “Your butt isn’t speaking a language!”

“How do you know until I get it translated!”

Sanji giggled. “Dope! Even if it was possible, he translates animals, not demonic ass entities.”

“Well, aren’t you the prize fucking _fart_ expert, all of a sudden -- ”

“Can it!” He shushed him. “The kids might be up, or worse, the women -- I don’t want them to hear this -- ”

“I’ll stop talking when you stop giggling.”

“What! I’m _not_ \-- ”

As if on cue Usopp’s flash dial shined a beam on them from the crow’s nest. “What’s all that racket? Go to sleep!”

“Right away, Captain Usopp!”

“Are you mocking me?” The light switched to Zoro. “Wait a minute,” the sniper’s voice turned wary. “Are you guys drunk?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That would be completely unprofessional, Usopp, considering we’re pirates.”

“Alright, point taken.” The light flicked out, and Usopp called a final warning: “Just keep it down. You’ll regret this tomorrow, Sanji.”

“Why me?!”

“ _You_ have to feed Luffy in the morning. Zoro doesn’t have to do anything but sleep until a seaking or an angry mob shows up.”

“He’s right,” Zoro chuckled. 

Sanji turned back to the railing. He thought about lighting another cigarette. “You’re in a good mood,” he murmured instead.

“Don’t remember any reason not to be.” 

“All that crappy booze just after getting your memories crammed back together," he mused. “Hopefully there’s no permanent brain damage. But then, who would notice the difference?”

“Nice try. You can’t piss me off right now,” Zoro leaned over his elbows, glaring proudly at the horizon. “We beat the crap out of that memory dragon. I’m alive; I’m the illest swordsman on the sea _and_ in the sky. Our crew is famous; my captain is dope. The cook is hot.”

Sanji fumbled a fresh cigarette over the railing. It vanished into the heaving sea. 

“Loser,” the swordsman complimented.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you’re a loser.”

“Before that.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Hey, moss-head,” Sanji considered. “Does Nami have, equipment, that _you’re_ not interested in?”

“Maybe,” Zoro narrowed his eyes. “Wanna fight about it?”

“ _Tch._ No. You’re on a pirate ship, man. No one’s judging your lifestyle here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“You sure you don’t want to fight?”

“ _Yes._ ” Sanji rolled his eyes. “You’re too drunk to hold your own.”

“Scared?”

“Cut it out. I won’t fight you right now. I’m responsible for your well-being, too, _marimo_.”

“You’re just saying that because you feel bad for kicking me earlier. Bring it on, curly. I can take you.”

“You wanna go that badly?” Against his better judgment, Sanji was being provoked. Zoro advanced until their foreheads shoved together, which wasn’t so unusual, especially before a scuffle. But it reminded Sanji that his crewmate was a quarter-inch taller than him, and he snarled. “Back off, booze-breath. Or I’ll leave you blacked out on the deck tonight.”

“In your dreams, ash tray. You couldn’t knock me out with all the popskull on this ship.”

“Sure I could,” a wicked grin tipped up one side of his face. “Just depends which end of the bottle I’m holding.”

Zoro forgot what the heck he was doing. Why were they so close? It must be an argument but he didn’t feel angry about anything. He brushed at the hair covering the cook’s elusive left eye -- and just as he suspected, the other half of his face was underneath it. No big deal. 

“What are you -- ” _Two_ eyes stared at him, suddenly, not unfamiliar but twice as intense, and Zoro withdrew. Sometimes you could see the starving little kid still inside of Sanji.

“‘M goin’ to bed,” he murmured, rustling up a yawn. “Don’t stay up too late, cook.” He added, in a lame voice: “ _You’ll catch a cold._ ”

“Bastard,” growled Sanji. “You can’t take a single nice thing, can you?”

He swayed too close on his way past. “Don’t tempt me.” 

Below deck, Zoro took a wrong turn to the girls' cabin, couldn’t find his hammock, laid his swords across the couch, and passed out on Nami’s fluffy floor rug.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Ship ahoy!”_

“What is it, Usopp?”

The sniper adjusted his goggles. “It’s a yawl.”

“Are you sure it’s not a sloop?”

“It’s a yawl, Luffy. A yawl with red sails.” Usopp jumped down from the bowsprit. “She’ll be aft of us in less than ten minutes if this wind keeps up.”

The captain threw his fists in the air. “Awesome!”

“I hope they have something to trade with us,” said Nami, accepting the perspiring drink Sanji delivered to her on a silver tray. It was made from the pulp of a mango blended with cumin, jeera, and mint leaves -- refreshing and energizing, perfect for a woman of her power and foresight. “I’m running low on ink.”

“I’m sure they’ll be willing to make an exchange.” For Robin, barley water with salt and a dash of honey, to keep her immovable mind sharp under the hot afternoon sun. The archeologist accepted her drink and thanked him with one of her mysterious smiles. “It’s rare to run into any ship on the Grand Line, let alone one that’s perfectly stocked.”

It was mid-afternoon aboard the _Going Merry_ , and the crew lounged above deck enjoying the tailwind; Chopper and Usopp chased each other rail to rail, Luffy sat up on the ram’s head, recovering from recent injuries, his eyes on the horizon. Nami had maneuvered the ship into a current of warm air, and a shallow jetstream hurried them along weightlessly to the next destination on her log pose: Water Seven, an island in Paradise known for its shipwrights. 

Sanji trucked up the steps to the topdeck, where the rudder post stood alongside _Merry’_ s rear sail. He circled the mizzen until he found the swordsman leaned against it.

“Its nearly two in the afternoon, Zoro. Haven’t you slept enough?”

“Hn?” He cracked one eye. “No, what’s this?” He took the offered glass anyway. 

“Just coconut water, with jasmine and lemongrass. For your hangover. You need to replenish the electrolytes in your stomach.”

Zoro ignored the straw and took a huge gulp off the rim, like an animal. “Holy crap, it’s delicious. Did I make your list of hotties, or something?”

“What! No!” Sanji felt a sudden flush rise to his ears that had nothing to with the afternoon sun. “That’s absurd.”

“You don’t usually bring me treats between meals.”

“I don’t?” Sanji glanced furtively around. Had he really only made drinks for Nami, and Robin, and… _moss-head?_ He didn’t even notice. What was happening to him? “You must not be remembering correctly.”

He shrugged. The nice thing about Zoro was even when he landed on something really horrible and embarrassing for someone else he still let it go in an instant. The practice of meditative noninterference was part of the art of the sword -- though Zoro's version of noninterference looked a whole lot like _non-effort_ , sometimes. The idiot did almost nothing until he absolutely had to. It was always 'I’ll wait here,' or 'I’ll just see what happens.' You couldn’t budge him with a lever large enough to turn the stars, sometimes. ’What are you going to do, Zoro?’ ‘Don’t know yet.’

The swordsman upended his glass to start chomping away at the crushed ice. Three gold earrings chimed together.

Sanji folded his drink tray under his arm and stayed squatting in the shadow of the second mast a bit longer. He lit a cigarette, daydreamed a little. He needed to stop thinking about sexy sword ladies with green hair. That’s why he accidentally made three drinks. It was all that _marimo_ ’s fault! But... wouldn’t it be perfect? Idle fights aside, they worked together, they looked out for the crew when things were serious and had their fun when the ordeal was over. At the end of the day they gravitated to the same space even when neither of them intended -- Sanji shook his head. No, whoa, _hell_ no. The fact was, Zoro was _not_ an attractive, busty woman. It was a good thing he wasn’t. Sanji would’ve already ruined their friendship before it began with enthusiastic, overbearing advances -- 

The pirate hunter settled his empty glass on the deck, thumped his chest, and burped loudly. “Thanks.”

The cook snorted, but he was happy. Wind whipped away a tailfeather of smoke along with the last of his wandering thoughts. _Oh well_ , he thought. His crewmate was male, and disgusting, but appreciative, at least. Sanji ruffled his hair. Instead of complaining, Zoro closed his eyes. 

“Nami says if you nap on the floor of the main cabin again she’s going to cover the rug in glue, roll you in it, and toss it overboard.”

“Too bad for her,” he sighed, unbothered. “I like a morning swim.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Just sleep somewhere else, idiot. Don’t pick a fight.”

“I’m _not_. She’s the one making a big deal out of it. Besides, a rug has no business being that comfortable.”

Sanji silently agreed. They both took naps on the floor of the main cabin for that reason. At the same time, occasionally. 

“Don’t let her find you drooling on it in the morning, at least.”

“She can fucking deal with it!” He still didn’t open his eyes but he got his angry eyebrows on. “I’m not the drooler, _you_ are!”

“Am not.”

“Deny it all you want. At least when I fall asleep on Nami’s rug, I don’t have dirty dreams about her.”

“Who do you have dirty dreams about?”

Zoro heaved a bull-like sigh through his nose. “Cook… ” He warned. “You gotta have something better to do right now. Go braid Robin’s hair.”

Instead, Sanji pulled on Zoro's collar to get a look at his right shoulder. It was absolutely the biggest bruise he’d ever left on his crewmate, hands down. Maybe the biggest _any_ one’s ever left on him.

Sanji traced the discoloration with the pad of his finger. It was wrong to feel any territorial pride over such things. 

“Yawl… ” 

“What?”

“A yawl with, red sails… ” Suddenly Zoro’s eyes snapped open, _both_ of them. “Oh, shit!”

“Dude, what?”

He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking Sanji the fuck over. “Don’t pull about!” He roared, and vaulted over the railing to the main deck. “Drop the sails, don’t change course! Usopp, give me your goggles!”

The captain met Zoro at the port-side railing. He held his hat down against the wind. “What’s wrong, you don’t want to make friends?”

“Not friends, Luffy. That’s a corsair rig.”

“Corsairs?”

On Luffy’s other side, Usopp swallowed audibly. “Corsairs!”

“Yeah. Their ships aren’t big but they’re fast as hell. They usually hang around reefs and harbors, preying on incoming traffic. They're famous for hit-and-runs. A yawl with red sails… ” Zoro lowered the sniper’s goggles. He tossed them back to their owner. “I know that model, it’s a Growler -- the fastest ship in their whole fleet. I’ve only heard rumors about it, but, if they’re even half-true, and they’ve spotted us already, we don’t have a chance.”

“Oh-ho, cool. I wonder if they know anything about that huge frog doing the front-crawl.”

“Luffy, this is serious! If they catch up with us -- ”

“Hey, don’t worry,” the captain interrupted with his usual wide-eyed honesty. “We can beat up a bunch of cut-and-run pirates, no problem.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about -- corsairs target ships! They’re going to stick us full of flaming harpoons, dumbass!”

Usopp paled. “ _What!_ ” 

It was enough to ignite a panic aboard the _Going Merry_. Nami shouted for clarification. Chopper screamed for a doctor. Robin shut her book. Sanji collected his empty glasses, one by one, and walked them to the galley. 

By the time he returned to the main deck, the crew was in motion; the foremast was in full sail and the sound of wind ribbing against thick canvas filled the air -- they were trying to build up speed. 

“Sanji, I need a helmsman!” Nami called. 

“Yes, Nami!” He flew to task. 

While he was focused on the topdeck, straining against the wheel and sweating under the navigator’s instructions, Sanji almost failed to notice the arrow headed straight for them -- not an arrow, in fact, but something much larger. Something black, and imminent. And on fire. 

“Luffy, stop it!” It wasn’t a Straw Hat adventure until Usopp was losing his damn mind. 

“I can’t! It’s pointy!”

Sanji figured all was lost. He’d be killed in his best suit, at least.

But it was times like these the crew came through with their best tricks. This time, the trick was Zoro; he came out of nowhere, leapt onto the bow, front-flipped unnecessarily over the jib-boom, and did a thing with his swords. The blades themselves didn’t touch anything, but they generated a sort of wind that split the incoming missile down the center. Sanji caught a fleeting glimpse of it as it whizzed by: a flaming, ten-foot long iron harpoon, thick as a young tree with serrated, oiled edges. The two halves parted ways at the foremast, just nicking the main sail before plopping harmlessly into the deep blue on either side of the _Going Merry_.

Relief was short-lived. The Growler pulled up on their port side impossibly fast, and the ocean rose between them -- _roll, roar, wash!_ Red sails trapped the afternoon sun in their jaws and blood-warm rays sloshed over both decks. Grappling hooks flew; Sanji rejected them with his feet. Luffy deflected a cannonball that punched a hole through the topsail of the enemy craft. Then a gangplank fell with a damning slam over the railings, bridging the gap between the two ships. 

So they were in for a fight.

Sanji stepped up onto the plank, appointing himself welcoming party for the troupe of gap-toothed grinning corsairs milling on the deck of the Growler. They leered, and a dozen or so began to crawl over the makeshift bridge, armed to the absolute teeth, bristling with chipped scimitars and rusty rapier swords. Their taunts reached him first. “Bring it on, pretty boy!” “He’s not even armed!” “Leave his guts on the gangway!”

He cleared the first wave with one hand in his pocket, freeing the other just for a handstand flare that knocked six enemies into the soup bubbling up between the ships. His heels hit the planks again, a bit scuffy with blood but he wasn’t going all out yet, and the second wave of corsairs hesitated. 

Sanji lit a cigarette. They decided to rush him.

The tips of all the leading weapons clattered to the wood in one sweep -- spears decapitated, blades cut clean in half -- taunts died on their tongues. Zoro sheathed his katana. Sanji shook out his match. 

“Those guys were mine,” he complained. 

“Don’t stand around smoking next time!” The swordsman adjusted his stance to address the invading party. “These guys clearly don’t know who they’re dealing with.”

A hushed whisper swept over the corsairs. “ _Roronoa Zoro!_ ” “It’s the pirate hunter!” “Not him again!”

Zoro blinked. “Okay, maybe they do.”

_“Zoro!”_

Someone was shoving through the throng from the opposing side. Whomever it was didn’t give a damn about the pirates tripping off the gangplank and splashing into the salt left and right. A tall silhouette formed -- broad shoulders, bronze skin, biceps like thunderheads. 

Zoro’s stance loosened. “Bucket?”

The man growled. “That’s _Cap_ tain Bucket!”

“Captain fucking Bucket, you gotta be kidding me. The Red Fleet gave _you_ a Growler?”

“It was a battlefield promotion, actually.”

“So the real captain got ganked.”

“To put it lightly.”

Both crews looked on as the pirates reached out and knocked their hands together about seven times in different arrangements. Sanji could see Zoro’s big stupid grin through the back of his head, and frowned. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust his crewmate, but he had no reason to trust his crewmate’s grimy friends. What was the deal? He wondered. Did Zoro travel with these scoundrels before joining up with Luffy? Sanji realized he knew very little about the Straw Hat crew’s first member. He also realized he was rather curious. 

“You old bastard,” Zoro said, laughing. “Still trading teeth for gold, I see. Been hiding out on the Grand Line all this time?”

“A-ha, well, that’s quite a long tale. Suffice to say the Red Fleet is exploring new markets. You know the saying -- the deeper the water, the fatter the fish!”

“You ran into some fatter fish than you could handle, from the looks of it.”

Sanji briefly appraised the corsair ship. Zoro was right -- the crimson sails were certainly intimidating, and it cut a fine silhouette from afar, but up close the yawl showed signs of serious damage: the rear mast leaned up against the mainstay, and the bowsprit had been blown, or ripped, clean off. Snuggled together on the gangplank behind their captain, the ragtag corsair crew was starting to look sheepish. 

“Aye,” said the man called Bucket. “These’re treacherous times for the humble rapscallion, to be sure. Listen, this is going to sound, bananas, but you and your crew better keep a lookout for a brother on a bicycle -- it might not seem like it, but that guy means business! The shirt is tucked in!”

“Heard that.” Zoro rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for the warning. But we ran into him, already.” 

“Well, that explains the state of your poor rig.”

“ _What_ about our ship!” Usopp, slingshot still poised, his knees shaking. “There’s nothing wrong with _Merry!_ ”

Bucket coughed sturdily into his hand. He waved at Usopp. “Uh. Sure thing, son!” Closer to Zoro, he muttered: “You boys know you’re riding scrap timber, right?”

“She might not look like much, but there’s love in every board.” He crossed his arms. “We didn’t all wake up in a brand new Growler.”

“Hey, the meek shall inherit, right?” Sunlight winked off a gold-flecked grin, and Bucket gestured back at the yawl. “You like her? _Princess Mayoka_ is state-of-the-art, a true ruler of the seas! Bit roughed up at the moment, but the interior’s rock solid and she cuts the brine like a knife. What am I going on for? Reunions like this don’t happen every day -- come aboard! Bring your crew! Drink me under the table!”

He hammered Zoro over his injured shoulder. Sanji winced. The pirate hunter didn’t flinch, but his eyes did flick around to the cook like he was blaming him for something. 

“You’ll have to check with the captain.” He said. “I’m just the sword guy.”

Bucket nodded, tapped his foot against the gangplank. “Best keep it that way, son. I’ve met maggots in my bread with better sense of direction. Ha!”

“Speaking of maggots, where’s that marine you were so proud of? The petty officer you smuggled out of the 26th Branch?”

“Oh,” the corsair scratched his head. One of his bulky pig tails bobbed up and down. “Listen Zoro, this is going to sound, _bananas_ , but we ran into some sort of magic user a while back, a fairy you might say, of a very rare breed… ”

 _Klnng!_ In a flash two swords are out, and Zoro has a new opponent. They connected in a flurry of clashing steel, with a sound like a hailstorm over glass. _Klnng-kling-kling-klink! Shhhhhrik!_ They fell out of pattern to adjust stance, then -- _klng-klng-klng-klnk!_ Sanji stepped forward but it was clear to him there was no malice in Zoro’s attacks. He looked back to see the Straw Hat crew exchanging shrugs, with expressions of vacant confusion -- first Luffy, then Nami; Robin shrugged, then Chopper and Usopp. Finally it was Sanji’s turn, and Captain Bucket shrugged back, initiating a chain that swept through the corsair ranks as well. 

Eventually the swordfight reached a standstill: the attacker’s scimitar, long and wickedly curved, caught in the crossroads of two of Zoro's katanas. 

“Afande,” he said, a third sword handle trapped in his gritted teeth. “You’re still sharp.”

“You, too. Have you found someone else to keep up with you?” She had a voice like church bells over green, green grass. 

The balance of power shifted, and there was a quick shuffle of blades. _Klng-_ klnk! _Shrriik!_ Another impasse.

“Is it just me, or, is something different about you? Like, ten years, maybe?”

“It’s not polite to ask a woman’s age.” The corsair’s eyes curled. Her teeth were not straight but they were all in the right place, and her skin shone like a starless pocket of the maritime abyss -- 

“You’re not a woman,” Zoro grunted. “You’re a filthy pirate. Worse, a marine traitor.”

“And you’re still a charmer.”

Sanji fell to one knee. In an instant he trapped one of the corsair's gloves between his hands. “Excuse my moss-brained comrade, my dear. He doesn't know a lady of beauty and poise when he sees one -- he doesn't deserve to share space with your Royal blood!”

Afande spat over the gangplanks into the sea. “Uh. Royal what now?” She was even beautiful spitting like a sailor.

“He has a condition." Zoro sheathed his katanas. "Hey, take it easy, cook. She’s twice your age.”

The blow to his face came so fast the pirate hunter had to use one of his sheaths to block. “You _brute_.” Sanji growled. He was so angry his feet felt hot. “What do you think you’re saying!”

“The _truth_.” He growled back. “Stupid, pervy cook!” 

They leapt into a fight. The gangplank groaned under the weight of the pirate crews. Two ships, four masts, three swords, and a couple of very bad attitudes.

Zoro caught Sanji's heel in the crossroads of two katanas, eyebrows twitching. While they made furious faces at each other, Nami approached the swordswoman. Usopp and Luffy both introduced themselves as captain of the _Going Merry_ , and Bucket laughed uproariously. 

“Look, he’s right. Hey, Blondie? He’s right, you know.”

The cook fell out of step. Zoro headbutted him, hissing: _”Jerk!”_

Sanji looked at Afande -- Oh, even her name was a stunning, three-step song on his tongue! -- she didn’t look a day over twenty-two. 

“We just got through escaping the underwater temple at Arethussa Falls,” she explained. “I got hexed.”

“Aye,” rumbled Bucket. “We’re on our way to Water Seven, heard there’s some big-time root doctor out there good at putting bad mojo in reverse. Wouldn’t mind findin’ a shipwright, as well.” He laughed.

“Hey, us too!” said Luffy. “Except we aren’t cursed.”

“You said, an underwater temple?” said Usopp. “How is that possible?”

“You boys never heard of Arethussa Falls?” Afande leaned one hand on her hip and smiled secretively. Her eyes flicked to Nami. “What about you, navigator? Surely you’ve heard stories. The temple of Arethussa lies at the bottom of the largest sinkhole in the Grand Line -- drops water miles and miles straight down into a hole so deep it pulls the wind inside into a spiral and then spits it back. They say it’s the breath that forms the great storm _Aqua Laguna_ each year.”

“Why would you sail towards something like that?”

“For the legendary treasure inside it, of course.”

“Legendary treasure?” Nami’s eyes glittered. “Please, tell us more!”


	3. Chapter 3

Brandy, beer, and torchlight soaked the deck of _Princess Mayoka_. 

The Growler was a neat model, a sporty kind of yawl with a narrow build and tall, well-endowed sails -- she rolled to a different pitch than the _Going Merry_ , a little more tilt, more grind. 

Two pirate crews settled down to a shared dinner of potatoes and boiled mutton, pea soup, plum-duff biscuits, rice with chestnuts, and tea without milk; for afters, some tough old barley oat cake from a good recipe but lacking in refined execution. More honey, thought Sanji. Less malt. He found the corsairs and their victuals unsavory at best, but they were not the worst company the Straw Hats had encountered on the high seas. Or the high skies, as it were. They were willing to trade drafting ink for caulking material, anyway, so Nami was happy. 

After dinner the corsair crew tapped into barrels of beer made from malted millet. Bucket called it _pombe_. Sanji asked the captain’s real name, and he laughed -- said even his mother forgot. 

“So when did he join up with you?”

“Who?”

“Moss-head.” Sanji nodded in the direction of his crewmate; Zoro had become embroiled in a fight with five or six other corsair men. They acted like shipmates. 

“Zoro?” Bucket bared his golden teeth in a wide grin, like he knew it would kill Sanji to say the name aloud -- “Good to know he’s found comrades with real salt! Aye, we knew each other, but your swordsman never joined the Red Fleet. It was years ago -- I was only a second mate, at the time. We dropped anchor in Mirror Land, that’s in the West Blue, and there was rumors going around town about some killer, some bad ass little kid… imagine, a _pirate_ hunter at fifteen years old! _Ha!_ I didn’t think we had anything to worry about. Then my boss shook down a little bar in the area -- we were just messing around, but, well, Zoro knew the owner. He knocked our whole crew flat, stole our flagship, and crashed it into a reef!”

Sanji raised his eyebrows. He blew smoke at a curious fly. “What did you do?”

“What any sensible gang of bandits does upon being outclassed -- we tried to hire him on the spot!”

A brawny corsair called Mardukh came around refilling flagons with fizzy _pombe_. He topped off Bucket and proceeded to Luffy near the center mast. The captain of the Straw Hats was entertaining their new friends with his famous mile-high pour. Sanji could only guess at the size and stock of the yawl’s larder; two-thirds alcohol and one-third tobacco leaf, probably. Anyone who wasn’t drinking was chewing and spitting. You could smoke a hundred cigarettes and never get the taste of the brine off your tongue, he found.

Drums had been humming along steadily since dinner, heavy bass a constant bump on his backbone. The corsairs owned an impressive set of three-legged kettle drums, several lighter double-ended pressure drums that set beat as well as melody, and a variety of one- and two-string fiddle instruments. The tempo periodically picked up pace, as if overcome by some spirit, and it was hard not to move your feet in tune. Rhythm flowed like a river. 

Sanji started to think maybe the brawling on the main deck wasn’t a brawl at all; it was some sort of dance, martial but joyous, with a great amount of jumping and kicking, all tied together in pulses of last-second synchronicity led by the stomping of feet, an interim shout. The corsairs danced like the spirit had taken them. 

When Zoro finally left the thrall, sweat reflected firelight off his throat. 

“Boy was a dry-lander when I met him,” Bucket said. He tapped his foot proudly. “I taught him everything he knows about pirate code, and life on the sea!”

“So he took your offer.”

“He said he’d work for us as long as we took him where he wanted to go.”

“Which was where?”

“He didn’t know yet.”

“Sounds like him.” Sanj bared his teeth through a waterfall of smoke. One of the corsairs who called him ‘pretty boy’ had given him a whole pack of long, thin cigarettes, completely white from tip to filter. It said Foot in the Garden on the box. He’d never seen them before but he wasn’t complaining; the cigarettes were slim and elegant and they tasted alright. Lighthearted, almost. 

“What was his bounty, back then?”

“Thirty-six. For petty crimes, still -- disrupting shipping lanes, interfering with police business, slicing licensed ships to bits. That was before he started really pissing off the marines. Eventually the kid was drawing in so much attention from the law, my captain decided he was more trouble than he was worth. The Red Fleet tried to cut ties with Roronoa Zoro, once and for all.”

“Tried?” Sanji echoed. “What happened?”

“He knocked out the whole armada, stole our brand new flagship, and crashed it into a reef!”

The cook laughed. “Sure you want him on board the _Princess?_ ”

“Corsairs don’t hold grudges.” Bucket declared. “Chance meetings like this are one in a million plus two -- every pirate in all seven seas is sailing to the end of the world, son. Best have a drink with your mates on the way down.”

Sanji agreed with him. The captain stumped off in search of another refill. It was past midnight but not yet the witching hour. Usopp and Chopper had crossed back to the _Merry_ , along with Robin, her careful darkness far too refined for the fiery bacchanalia. Luffy and Nami, on the other hand, could hold their own drinking and brawling with the best of them.

Sanji cocked one knee and sat up on the starboard rail. _Princess Mayoka_ ’s crimson sails beat heart-like in the thin breeze. Night closed the ship in a dark locker. He lit another cigarette, turned to straddle the line between the black ocean and the dancing red deck. 

“You want your _pombe?_ ”

“Huh?” His thoughts scurried away. That sounded like -- “ _Marimo?”_

“Yeah, that’s me.” Zoro pointed to Sanji’s flagon. “Your _pombe_ , cook. You want it?”

He flipped his spare hand. “No, go ahead -- ”

Ingrate barely even waited for him to finish. An alarming volume of millet beer vanished in a single pull. His crewmate had lost his shirt in the fray. 

“I didn’t know you were a corsair.”

 _Thunk._ The hollow impact of flagon and wood railing. Zoro exhaled greedily. “I’m not.” He said. “Just needed a lift. Corsair life was good, anyway -- fast and violent.”

“You sailed with them for a long time.” Sanji guessed. He could tell that just by watching them.

“Not really. Couple years, maybe.”

 _Years?_ The cook choked on a wayward updraft of smoke. No wonder they were so chummy. Compared to these guys, the Straw Hats were the strangers to Zoro!

“What’re you smoking?” 

Before he could respond, Sanji’s fresh pack of cigs was stolen away from him. “Who gave you these?”

“What the fuck!” Was all he could think. “Give them back!”

“Then tell me _who_ gave them to you.”

“I don’t know, the dude pouring beer. What’s your problem -- ”

“ _Mardukh!_ ” He hollered across the deck. The crewmember in question seemed to turn in his direction, and Zoro brandished Sanji’s pack of cigarettes. He made a violent hand gesture and mimed hurling the little box across the ship. The corsair Mardukh laughed and shouted something that got scrambled by the beat of the drums.

“Okay, stop. Stop!” Sanji reached out, and in the absence of a shirt, he grabbed for his crewmate’s loop of swords.

Zoro turned back to the railing at last. “Hey, don’t touch my swords -- ”

“Then don’t touch my, fucking,” Sanji snatched at his stolen property. “Cigarettes!”

“Alright, fair enough.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Zoro shook his head, leaning back on his elbows. “They’re just talking some dumb shit.”

Sanji kicked his feet. His sea-side knee was getting cold, but he liked the view between the lines. “I’ve never smoked this brand before.” He said. “They look kind of pretty.”

Zoro snorted. “Foot in the Gardens. They’re made for women, that’s why.”

“Oh.” Sanji said. “Well, I don’t care, I like them. Cigarette’s a cigarette.”

“Right, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re making fun of me, not you. Kept asking questions about my bruise.”

The cook suspected he was part of some roundabout joke poking fun at the swordsman’s sexuality. It bothered him, but not in the way he was expecting. Two years was a pretty long time.

“Were you close?” He wondered. “With any of them?”

“Hn? What do you mean? With who?”

“I don’t know. Bucket.”

“ _Buck_ et! He’s like my old man!”

“Mardukh?”

“Hell no!”

“Nahar?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Na _har?”_

“I’m just curious. Why are you laughing?”

“Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I… think so.”

“You’re _curious_ about men.”

Sanji focused on his cigarette for a few long seconds. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, and let it go. “Whatever.”

Sanji wondered if the swordsman was purposely trying to upset him, and decided against it. The Straw Hat crew had a policy about parties; what happens in revelry, remains in revelry -- there wasn’t any point in letting loose once in a while if everyone was watching your step while you did it. The night they celebrated their victory over the god Eneru on Skypiea, Sanji ended up drunk and dancing with a fat dude with wings. Happiness didn’t have to be pulled off a shelf and uncorked; it came all at once, without vessel or label to announce it -- sometimes you didn’t even know it was there until someone spilled it in your lap. 

Like all dogs of the sea, corsairs were accomplished story-tellers. 

“The sea is a woman, obviously.” The tales started promptly at sun-down, and didn’t let up until the last torch was snuffed. Every once in a while, a good yarn would gather a decent crowd, and you couldn’t help but lean into it. Sanji had grown accustomed to the noise level aboard a pirate ship -- after a time, even fifty unwashed strangers stomping and shouting could seem like silence. When Afande started to speak, even the murmuring drums and the _Princess_ ’s savage sails leaned in to listen. “In all the legends from all seven seas, water is both the exultation of life and the curse of destruction; it is the womb and the funeral pyre, the birth-mother and the temptress... Men covet her infinite beauty, and fear the deathlike terror of her depths -- ”

“Just tell the damn story, Afande!”

“Pot-boiler!”

“Aye, go on, give us the heft of it!” Captain Bucket was finally drunk, sunk in a coil of ropes near the broken bowsprit. “Let the spirit catch ye!”

“The sea is a woman,” Afande said again, voice clear and dark and copper-sweet. She slammed her flagon on the deck with an empty wooden _thunk!_ and peered around at the pirates. “Love her -- ” She dared them. “Drown in her.”

“Please,” Nami pitched forward with torchlight in her brown eyes. “Tell us about the temple.”

“Yeah!” Luffy paused to burp. “And the treasure!”

“I’m sorry, my friends, I can't.” Afande hummed. “The risk is too great. Braving the Falls cost the Red Fleet two of its Growlers -- we lost shipmates and friends, rivals and lovers. The _Princess_ lost her captain, and I forfeited half of all my years to the slumbering goddess Arethussa.”

The drunken corsairs howled their complaints, and Luffy and Nami pleaded along with them.

“She’s faking,” Zoro murmured. “Afande loves to make an audience beg for it. Typical marine.”

Sanji watched a plume of smoke set sail over the black sea. Contrary to the rowdy rapscallion crews, the Straw Hat cook felt clear-headed and content, and he was rather enjoying the show. He bobbed his knees, and noticed a gradation of warmth around his shipside leg. Zoro adjusted his grip. Sometime during the excitement, he’d folded his palm over Sanji's knee, and held it there like a lazy anchor. It wasn’t the first time the swordsman ever grabbed his leg, but it was the first time his touch didn’t promise physical harm. 

Sanji shrugged to himself and let it happen. He liked affection. In fact, he craved it. But sometimes lonely people were cursed with jack-ass attitudes; Sanji liked affection, but he’d sit up on the sidelines and smoke seventy cigarettes before ever admitting that he needed it.

The cook tried to picture Zoro as the ‘bad ass little kid’ Bucket was talking about -- but he could only imagine him napping, and doing a whole lot of nothing, as usual.

“Long ago, before the gods took names or shapes,” Afande finally eased into the beginnings of a well-trodden myth: “The earth had no form, no boundaries, no corsairs and no ships. There was only Chaos, the Mother of gods, all-powerful ruler of the tides, and her admirer: the immortal Moon. Their love formed a wonderful and chaotic gem, Envy of all the water-spirits, mermaids and nereids. The spirits were jealous of the water-Mother -- they killed her, and made the Earth from her flesh. The gem fell from the upper waters to the lowest feminine essence, and the Moon, forsaken, bade that it fall forever, far beneath the fathomless ocean, where the memory of their love and her sacrifice would be lost forever.”

“What sort of gem is it?” Nami said.

“Some think it is the most precious cut of jade, worth the fortune of a small kingdom. Others believe it is a sea-prism stone with untold powers -- no one really knows.”

“So, then… you guys didn’t find it?”

“What about the temple? What’s it like? Who built it?”

“It's not the gem we went in search of," she answered. "But Arethussa, the fallen daughter of Chaos herself -- ”

Someone among the ranks of listening corsairs coughed around a poorly disguised and very rude word.

“She sucks!” someone else called.

“We should kill the witch!”

“Aye, for Capitain Kaisa!”

Afande waited for the loudest of the upset to die down. “According to the legend, Arethussa was a beautiful young nereid who led the attack against her water-Mother. When the gem fell to Earth, she fled deep under the sea and built a temple there, using her beauty to lure young men to her lagoon; they say if she finds you worthy, Arethussa will appear at the altar and grant you the power of an ancient weapon lost to Mankind.” Afande bared her lovely teeth and snarled. “I didn’t give a damn about the shiny rock, the Red Fleet could have it -- I wanted the legendary sword!”

Zoro perked up. “Hn? Somebody say sword?”

Sanji snorted softly. “Moss-head. You haven’t even been listening. Now you want to dive down there?”

“Don’t you? Pretend a magic lady wants to hand you a pack of legendary cigarettes.”

“At the bottom of the ocean? No thanks, I forgot my flippers.”

“Maybe she’s got waterproof matches, too.”

Sanji snorted again. Zoro grinned at him, swept his thumb over his knee.

“The Falls only appear under the eye of a new moon." Afande carried the tale forward. "We searched and searched, but the sinkhole found us first. The _Princess Mayoka_ sailed to the edge of the unknowable; she circled its crown!” The corsairs cheered. “The Fleet’s strongest fighters volunteered; we cast long lines into the abyss. The horizon flipped; we blacked out on the way down -- there wasn't any way of knowing how far we fell. I will say this: when we crossed the threshold into that flooded temple, I felt the weight of the stars on our heads, and I thought we would never return home from that place.”

“Did you meet her?” said Nami. “Arethussa?”

“First the pale dragon took Kaisa in its jaws,” Afande said, grim. 

A tall and extremely heavy-set corsair called Nahar started bawling loudly. Others made desperate, empty threats. Clenched fists, promises, and furious oaths flew to and fro across the _Princess_. In the end another barrel of _pombe_ was tapped, and the corsair crew picked up another boisterous cheer. Luffy joined in: “To Captain Kaisa!”

“I saw a hand rise out of the lagoon.”

The pirates settled, a new and serious density in the air.

“A woman’s hand rose out of the white-tipped ripples,” Afande said again. “Grasping the most magnificent sword I had ever seen. It shone from point to pommel like the clearest diamond -- ”

“That’s stupid.” Zoro interrupted, this time. “A sword made of diamond would break like glass.”

“I’m not saying it’s possible. It’s just what I saw.”

“I’d like to see you cut diamond, pirate hunter!”

“No problem,” Zoro retorted. “There’s a thousand different kinds of steel much stronger than diamond.”

“He’s full of crap -- ”

“Diamond’s the toughest material in the world, stupid!”

“Go ahead and try it!” He roared back. “Fight me, we’ll see who looks stupid then!”

Sanji didn’t know who was right. But he remembered he was in the grasp of one of the best swordsmen on the planet. He bobbed his knee. Zoro tightened his hold while he argued -- he was going to fling the cook across the deck like a fucking javelin, in a minute.

“I’m going to stub this out on your hand, _marimo_ ,” he warned. 

“I heard a voice from the water.” Afande saved his life. The noise eased down little by little. Zoro loosened his grip. 

“A voice rose from the water,” said Afande. “I could hear Kaisa screaming. And Arethussa spoke to me. She said I could take the sword, but only if I defeated the dragon guarding her coveted jewel… If I failed to honor the terms, Arethussa promised to give me what every woman wants, and take away what I needed the most. She said eternal life without the potential for love is eternal death.”

“Eternal life,” Nami blinked. “That’s not so bad.”

“What would be the point of eternal life, Nami-san, if you did not love your maps?” Afande’s eyes glimmered. “To live only to watch your loved ones devoured?”

The navigator fell silent. 

“I heard Kaisa screaming,” she said again. “I took Arethussa’s stupid diamond sword, and I accepted her stupid terms, but I… I couldn’t lift it. I couldn’t even lift the damned thing -- ” The corsair’s indomitable voice finally shook and broke. “I couldn’t save her. The captain got swallowed, and I didn’t do a damn thing!”

Another downturned murmur swept over the crew. Nahar wept openly. 

Tentatively, Nami tiptoed over the silence. “What’s the deal with this dragon? Aren’t they supposed to be really smart?”

“Legend says, the Falls open up every month during the new moon," said the immortal story-teller. "On those days of darkness, the Moon itself transforms into a dragon to stand guard over the open portal, and the lost gem inside. Pirate Hunter Zoro,” Afande got to her feet and held her flagon out. Mardukh leapt over his comrades to refill it. Millet beer slopped over the deck. “I don’t know if it’s fate we met this way, but if your skills are half what they were when we parted ways the first time, I know you can do it -- please, work for the Red Fleet one last time. Cut that _bas_ tard dragon down!”

All Zoro did was lift his flagon. A cheer ripped out of the corsairs and the whole ship seemed to rock with it. Sanji leaned to keep his balance. Nami’s voice could be heard underneath the turmoil: “Kill the _Moon?_ Isn’t that kind of a _BAD IDEA!”_ Her protests went unheeded; even Luffy was celebrating over her, but he liked nothing more than a challenge, especially when it came dressed as an act of justice. 

“Um,” Sanji hummed. “You sure about this?”

Zoro slammed his empty flagon down again. “Sure,” he narrowed his eyes on a distant point, and his hand slid away. It left a cold reminder. “Why not?”

Sanji didn’t have time to respond before his crewmate walked away. The festivities rolled on into the small hours of the morning. Finally he thanked Afande for her story, and left to relieve Usopp in the crow’s nest. 

It was pointless to try and explain obvious things to an absolute simpleton, anyway. Sanji imagined eternal life without his passion for cooking, for the journey he was taking and the comrades riding along with him: no love for Nami, or Luffy, no hate for Moss-head -- just emptiness. It didn’t sound like any life at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with art!

Zoro missed breakfast the next morning by a minute --

His loss. Sanji served twice-baked rusk bread made with rye and barley flour, accompanied by generous portions of honey and elderberry jam; pork and beef for Luffy, cut, treated, and cooked with palm oil, pepper, and pink bay salt; turnip, potato, and carrot pie brushed with butter for a golden crust and served with fine slices of smoked salmon and salt herring. At the ship-doctor’s request, something salt-less: hot cereal with oats, wheatberry and coarsely ground almond flour. He brewed a pot of coffee, and tapped into a couple casks of cold strawberry cordial he’d been saving, one with lemon and one with lime. 

When lunch came and went, still with incomplete attendance, Sanji started to get annoyed. What kind of ship’s cook was he if he couldn’t even feed a five-man crew? Not one of the best, that’s for sure -- and Sanji _was_ the best. The least everyone could do was show the fuck up for meal times and let him do his job. No self-respecting cook chased down clients just to force-feed them the delicious fruits of his labor, especially not inconsiderate bounty hunters who did nothing but lay around and drink and lift enormous things on their own damn time. If Zoro wanted to boycott the galley, fine. That was his problem.

It only bothered him because the Straw Hat men ate heartily on the regular: Usopp was still growing; the captain predictably hit every meat dish with disgusting gusto; Chopper ate enough veggies and grains to fuel seven shape-shifting reindeer; and usually it was _Moss_ -head who cleaned his plate first, bugging Sanji about seconds ( _"Fill ‘er up, cook!"_ ) until he snapped at him to serve himself. The swordsman was a reliable eater, even with a hangover. Especially so. 

Sanji scrubbed a fine film of sweat from his brow with a kitchen rag. Steam was an excellent cooking tool, powerful and versatile, but rather finicky and labor intensive. 

When he wasn’t cooking meals, Sanji was in the galley prepping them. He was clean, fast, and proud but even skilled chefs had to prepare complex meals hours in advance -- it was the labor part of the labor of love. Glutinous rice had to be soaked overnight in clean freshwater, drained and steamed in 25-minute increments, with careful applications of salt, heat, and moisture. The rice would be ready when dinner rolled around, but in the meantime, the steam baskets were still hot, so he made a dough from water and rice flour and set to work rolling and carefully packing some simple steamed buns with different fillings. Water cabbage, green onions, pork and brown sugar. It was undeniably comfort food, and not something he made too often without request. 

Sanji wrapped a few of the uglier ones in bamboo leaves, tied them off with twine, and began climbing the long ladder up the main mast, prepared to be absolutely pissed. 

The crow’s nest was snug, and a little too windy. The Straw Hat flag wippled noisily overhead, and Sanji hoped, if and when they got the _Merry_ her much-needed repairs, they might redesign her crow’s nest to make it more comfortable, or at least more spacious. 

The sea cook kicked at the foot of the body spread-eagled on the floor-planks, deposited his neatly-tied package of steamed buns on the bench beside three sheathed katanas, and crouched to peer underneath it. “You alive?”

No response. Zoro’s head and shoulders were shrouded in shadow.

“I guess this means you fell asleep on watch last night,” he said, settling over his heels and busying himself with a fresh cigarette. His fingers brushed his old pack and Sanji pulled out a Foot in the Garden instead. 

“You can’t be this hungover,” he idled on, rummaging for matches. “That millet beer was probably three per cent alcohol. And you only drank about ten gallons of it -- ”

It was right there and completely bare so Sanji reached out and walked his fingers along the riverbed of scar tissue travelling from his crewmate’s hip to opposite shoulder. Mihawk’s attack was just about the first memory he had of the pirate hunter.

Zoro caught his arm so quick Sanji startled out of a memory montage and dropped his unlit cigarette smack on the swordsman’s stomach -- “Oh, shit!” He rescued it before it could settle in any of the grooves of his abdomen and tried not to laugh. “I’m so sorry,” he rushed. “These really are ladies’ cigarettes.” Sanji bit his lip but laughed his ass off, anyway. 

A voice from the darkness. “I’m awake.” He sounded like an underwater seaking. “‘M not an ashtray.”

The cook struck a match, hunched down to shield the flame against the wind. “Nami’s got Berries in her eyes about this Old World gem -- I don’t think it really bothers her that you might get eaten. We're going to reach the coordinates the corsairs gave us by sundown. Remember what you agreed to do last night, _marimo?”_

“Yes.”

“You don’t _look_ like someone about to slay the Moon.”

Zoro sat up, bit by bit, groaning pathetically. “I need one of Chopper’s Buster balls.”

“You mean _Rumble_ balls?” Sanji snorted.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Look alive, man.” A gust of wind stole the smoke off his breath. “I, uh, brought you dumplings.”

“Thanks.” Zoro leaned his elbows back on the bench and grinned. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“I hope you get eaten!” Sanji bit down on his cigarette’s filter. He forced an exhale out his nose. “Look, _moss_ -head, the difference between cooking and playing with swords is the culinary arts are meant to be shared. I don’t cook for myself, I cook for others, that’s the joy of it, and the risk.”

Zoro shrugged. “You can share my sword whenever you want.”

Sanji sank into a sanctuary of smoke.

“Okay,” his crewmate added, abruptly. “That came out, _way_ dirtier than I thought. Forget that forever.”

“Agreed.”

“What kinds did you make?” Zoro leaned around him to pluck his I-definitely-don’t-care package from the bench by his swords. 

“Uhm,” the cook cleared his throat but it remained murky and deep-set. “There’s one meat, one veggie, one custard.”

He plucked at the twine and peeled the leaves apart. “They’re, fucking, cute as hell.”

Sanji blushed all the way to his ears, hard enough that he felt the heat in his face and flushed double from flattery _and_ embarrassment. 

“Yes,” his crewmate chuckled darkly. “You, too.” 

“I gave you the ugly ones!” This wasn’t fair, he thought. Sanji came up here to be _angry_ , goddamn it. “Stop screwing with me.”

“Sorry, I don’t know. Fuck,” Zoro shook his head like there something extra clattering around in there, certainly not a brain. “Forget I said that.”

Sanji remembered a cask of cordial left over from breakfast. He’d meant to bring it up with him, and forgot -- 

“Nah,” said the swordsman. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

The cook froze halfway to his feet. It wasn’t outright, but the implication was loud and clear: _Stay_. And he could’ve easily said peace out anyway and climbed down the hole because believe it or not Sanji had _shit_ to do but he didn’t. He stayed.

“That stuff’s too sweet for me anyway.”

“You never said.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Zoro shrugged one shoulder. “I like the lime.”

“Then I’ll make a limier one.”

Another shrug. The buns disappeared in a fraction of the time it took to make them, but at least he took _bites_ instead of swallowing everything whole like the enthusiastic bottomless pit they called ‘Captain.’ 

“Good?” 

“As usual.”

Let it be said, Sanji enjoyed a scuffle, but he liked praise even more. Like a black cat the cook kept his distance but he always wanted compliments. Zoro was a world-famous pirate with a gigantic bounty on his head and a huge scar across his chest and they fought like dewgongs but somehow that made it even better; it made Sanji’s skin prickle.

He finished his cigarette. “You already have three swords. What do you need another one for?”

“I’m not interested in the sword. I’m going to kill Afande’s dragon, and get the hell out of there.”

“So you’re _not_ interested in a legendary, unliftable diamond sword?”

“That’s right.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

Zoro scowled. “What do you want from me?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this. You want to test your sword skills, then fine, but against an endangered mythological creature? What will that prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything.”

“Then _what_ is it, man -- ”

“Maybe I want closure, for an old friend. Is that so wrong?”

Sanji folded his arms over his knees. He was getting sore from squatting so long. “Do you want to join them again?”

“What? No!" He snapped. "Look, I had a lot of fun times with that crew, they were like family and I love those motherfuckers -- but, I’ve got a new thing, now. I’ve got a new family. I want to take Luffy as far as he can possibly go over these messed up seas. I’ll fucking die with that crazy kid if I have to.”

“Alright, alright.” Sanji lifted his hands. “Don’t die in a hole, then, okay?”

“I don’t plan on it.” Zoro glanced to his swords, and back around to the cook. “Don’t leave the ship, though.”

“What?” He was digging for another cigarette, and paused.

“Just stay on the ship tonight.” 

“Why!” Sanji, abruptly furious.

“Be _cause_ ,” he seemed to cast around for plausible reasoning. “I don’t want you going limp over some shiny lagoon babe while I’m trying to gank a dragon with her shiny sword. It’s distracting.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in the shiny sword!”

“I’m _not!_ But I don’t know what’s going to happen down there! Who knows what some crafty old water-witch is capable of!”

Was he afraid that -- ? _No_ , Sanji thought. _Hell_ no. "If you accept her deal, I'll kill you myself."

His match wasn’t lighting. He was murdering the poor thing over the phosphorous strip on the matchbox, and only the coating was grinding away under the tip, to no avail. While both his hands were occupied, Zoro reached out; he found the backs of Sanji's ankles and off-balanced him with a quick jerk. The sea cook fell to his ass. The swordsman took his match and box and produced a flame on the first strike. 

Sanji lit his cigarette. Wind snuffed the match and it was then he realized that evening was setting in. Shadows were clawing their way across the _Merry_. 

“We’ve done so much crazy shit,” Sanji mused. He stretched out his legs, breathing a short sigh of relief. They didn’t have anywhere to go but across Zoro’s. “I understand why we’re helping these people now, I think. But why do I have such a bad feeling about it?”

“You're not the only one.” Zoro clasped his hands behind his neck and shut his eyes. Sanji didn’t know how he could be worried and unconcerned at the same time.

“I’ll give you ten seconds,” he decided, and set his burning cigarette down in a groove between planks. “To do whatever you want.”

“Hn? I don’t need your permission to -- ” Zoro’s eyes opened. They flicked to the cigarette, and read between the lines. His voice fell. Slowly: “Cook... d’you mean, whatever I want, to you?”

“Ten seconds,” Sanji reiterated. His hands were shaking so bad he stuck them in his pockets. “And we both promise to completely forget about it.”

“‘R you playing?”

“No.”

“Ten seconds?”

“Yes.”

Zoro’s arms fell slowly back to his sides. “And you promise to forget about it after? Nothing changes?”

“That’s the deal.”

“What brought this on?”

“Does it matter?” Sanji beat down a flush. “I’m, curious.”

His crewmate was very close, suddenly. He had to turn his head to keep his eye on him. Zoro shoved their foreheads together. “When does the time start?”

“It just did.”

The pirate hunter swore and kissed him. Not forceful but very insistent. Sanji didn't know what to expect, since ten seconds wasn't enough time to do any harm, really, but it surprised him when Zoro didn’t put his hands on him at all -- like that stereotypical first kiss, a couple of kids standing three feet apart, just hoping they hit the mark -- 

But Zoro definitely didn’t kiss like it was his first time, and after a few seconds getting used to the way his mouth moved, shit. Fine. He admitted it, Sanji kissed back, feeling hot but not in a surface way, deep in his bones; it was addicting. His hands twitched but it actually took a lot of nerve to reach out and touch somebody, especially if it was someone you were more accustomed to putting in headlocks. Finally Sanji pulled on his ear until Zoro tipped his head, prompting a growl from his crewmate, but if anything he pushed forward. It was a much better angle, and Sanji let him work his mouth open.

“Hey, do either of you guys -- _whoa._ Okay.” 

Usopp’s head disappeared again. The sounds of his footsteps could be heard fading back down the ladder, and the young sniper muttered to himself all the while: “Things you don’t expect to see aboard the _Going Merry_... ”

Sanji didn't register any of it. He was pretty sure his heart was going two-hundred beats a minute and he could hardly breathe over the thunder it was causing in his veins. Teeth clicked against his, tip of a tongue flicked the corner of his mouth. It seemed like the sun went down but his eyes had closed. Never once dreamed he’d be macking on Roronoa freaking _Zoro_ , tasting his own cooking, but it was more closeness than he’d been allowed in a while, and Sanji sank into the sensation -- he eased closer, and bit at the swordsman’s bottom lip. 

“Hey, cook,” said Zoro, low and hoarse. “I think it’s been ten seconds.” Or, like, thirty.

“Oh.” Sanji untangled his fingers from his hair and pulled firmly away. His chest was rocking, and he could see his crewmate breathing heavily as well. He cleared his throat, craned around for his cigarette, and busied himself relighting it. Zoro stretched his arms along the bench and closed his eyes again. 

“Is it time to make dinner?”

“Already prepped,” he hummed, grateful for the change of subject. That was the deal, after all. “Another hour.”

“I’ll fight you later,” said Zoro. “Needa warm-up, before I rip the moon spirit in half.”

“Fine.” Sanji wasn’t sold on either idea, but he’d done his best to sway him. The rest was up to fate. 

His Foot in the Garden eventually extinguished itself, and he let the early evening tailwind carry the filter away. Leaning against the wood bench sucked and he was right there anyway so Sanji turned his ear against Zoro’s outstretched arm. He shut his eyes. 

“You want to nap or talk?”

Sanji grunted, noncommittal. The _Going Merry_ dipped and leaned. The rhythm of normalcy slowly returned to all his internal gizmos. They would talk if he made it back alive tonight, he decided.

“You smell so bad,” Sanji broke the peace with a quiet chuckle. 

“Hn? I just went for a swim this morning.”

“The sea doesn’t actually clean you, _marimo_.”

“Huh? Oh, well, who the fuck cares? Being clean is so overrated. What is soap, anyway, and why is everyone so addicted to it?”

“You are the _def_ inition of a seadog, man.”

“I’m willing to accept that.”

Suddenly it hit him. Sanji opened his eyes. “Oh, crap.”

“What is it?”

“ _Us_ opp.”

“Oh, yeah.” And the pirate hunter laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

Sentinels of stone arched wickedly over the darkening sea, like behemoth waves frozen in time. Since midday the rock formations had grown from a bit of black lint on the horizon into huge, hooked towers blocking out half the sky. And with every dip of her nose, the _Going Merry_ crept closer, creaking and moaning. At her side the _Princess Mayoka_ cleaved the waves, whisper-quiet, two wartorn subjects of the swaying tides. 

A dinghy arrived after dinner carrying a small hash of corsairs, four barrels of beer, and copious kilos of the old cook Shypit’s specialty: an all-around weather resistant variety of oat cake, lethally dry, perfect for that pesky lower jaw you’ve been meaning to crack... Mardukh had a lying streak almost as impressive as Usopp’s. ”Fortify your stomach!” Fat chance -- Zoro knew a single slab of that oat cake responsible for at least two of Bucket’s gold teeth. 

Mardukh and Nahar made a big show of carrying their “gifts” below deck. The corsairs then took turns hammering Zoro on the back, and hammering on about the headwind, and Usopp’s heroic scrapheap of “repairs,” and Nami’s damned impressive _horti_ culture. Despite valiant efforts to keep the mood light, Zoro wasn’t fooled: the two of them were sweating like cheese on a mouse trap. The whole crew was on edge. Bucket and Afande strode to opposite sides of the _Merry_ and wouldn’t look at each other. 

Zoro nodded at the ring of rock spires jutting from the ocean. “That it?” 

“Aye.” Bucket frowned hard. “I thought I put this place behind me.”

Zoro shrugged. “Time loops.”

“And you and I stand once more on the precipice of destruction. Just like the old days, ain’t it?”

“I don’t remember you standing so much as diving for cover.”

“Sharp things make my hair stand on end, boy, you know that.” Bucket forced a smile. “It's best to leave the rough-housing to you warrior types. We weren’t all born for a big destiny, Zoro. Some of us just want peace, and constancy -- a cold beer and something to burn at the end of the day, perhaps -- ”

“Things a pirate will never have.”

He laughed to the sky. "You’re a blaggard to the bone! But you’re wrong. I’ve found it, I found that very peace. Maybe not the way others would picture it. The Mother Sea has given me everything I need: the sun on my face, wind at my back, a beating heart still attached to my body -- what more could I ask, the scumbag son of a scumbag? When she comes for my ship, and the Reaper lays down beside me, I’ll be laughing.”

“If the Reaper ever came for you, Buck, you’d snatch her golden sickle and make a break for it.”

“Once a corsair, always a corsair!” He chuckled. “Least respected in the pirate ranks, but the longest lived -- we never fight when we can flee!”

“Tell that to your second mate.”

The captain settled, and he frowned again at the ring of rock spires ahead. Night lurked on the veranda. “Aye. It’s the marine in her. We have nothing to gain here, but she won’t leave it alone -- wants to take the plunge a second time, can you believe it?”

“You tried to stop her.”

“I said making it out of that temple the _first_ time was a damned phenomenon! Going back for seconds, it’s not just tempting the Fates, it’s inviting them to a jig, and setting out cheese and crackers!”

“If it’s Shypit’s cooking, she just might win.” Zoro tried to elbow some humor back into his former comrade.

“You’re a cold man, Pirate Hunter," grumbled Bucket. "Shypit might not distinguish salt from sugar, but he’d steal fire from the gods for us. Heart of rose-gold, that one. Old-timer still makes a fine omelette, occasionally, if only we could find where the quails have run off to…” He paused and scratched his head. One pigtail bobbed up and down. “Best thank that monkey captain of yours -- we don’t all wake up to the _Baratie_ 's fine dining.”

It was Zoro’s turn to frown. “You talked to Sanji.”

“I also talked to Luffy." He grinned. "Curious lad. Says he’s going to be king of the pirates. And meat.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Believe him.” His gaze landed on the _Merry_ ’s figurehead, and his captain seated upon it. Afande was crouched between the ram’s horns, describing something with her hands. Whatever it was had Luffy clutching his sides laughing. 

“That old swordsman you told me about,” said Zoro. “The one who killed the dragon. You never said… how did he do it?”

“A-ha, Samurai Ryuma. You remember that old tale? It never does go into detail, and he’s not around any longer to explain, is he? Perhaps there’s something to be said for backing down from an impossible fight.”

“But he beat the dragon. Who knows what really killed him?” Zoro shrugged again, deliberately careless. “You know us warrior-types. We can’t back down from anything.”

“Oh?” The corsair’s expression bittered. “And what about your friend Black-leg, will he be joining the landing party?”

“Huh? Who? No. He’s just a cook.”

“Seems to handle himself pretty well in combat.”

“Doesn’t matter. If Afande wants to go, fine. She’s got skin in the game, it’s her honor at stake, but this is _my_ mission, _I_ agreed to it, alone. None of this has anything to do with my crew.”

“Honor’s got nothing to do with it either, matey. You can’t stop everyone. You can’t hardly stop _any_ one once the spirit’s caught ‘em, I’ve found -- ” 

Zoro snorted harshly. “Your spirit can go to Hell! Lousy, imitation cook better be swirling beverages in the galley tonight -- I don’t need his help. He’s a useless moron around women, anyway. Down there he’ll only get in the way.”

“Tea, anyone?”

“ _Sanji!”_ All his coiled nerves sparked; the pirate hunter jumped and flipped his back against the ship’s rail.

“That’s me.” 

“A-ha!” Bucket grinned. He accepted one steaming cup from the cook’s tray. “You have a soft tread, lad.”

“Only until his cuffs catch fire,” Zoro muttered. “And skulls start shattering.” He took his tea, mildly concerned for his own skull, and avoided eye contact with his crewmate. He wasn’t going to take back anything he said. Zoro didn’t have anything to take back, _period_. If the cook wanted to pretend like nothing happened, that was fucking fine with him --

“Have a good evening, gentlemen. I’ve got -- ” Sanji eyed him coldly. “ _Bev_ erages to swirl.”

He turned on his heel. Off to attend the ladies, probably.

Bucket gurgled into his cup. “What a chilly night.”

“Shut up.”

The worst part about hanging around new friends and old family was half of them wanted in on your business and the other half was only too eager to tell. That goes double for pirates; stories traded among them like cannonballs, the more explosive the better. 

Zoro glanced to the ram’s head again, looking for Afande, but she stood suddenly at his shoulder, and the swordsman jumped at the ship’s rail a second time. He wasn’t _out_ of it, of course not! Zoro was just, very focused on the upcoming battle. That’s all. He didn’t have any memory of something that might distract him. Even if he _did_ remember something mildly distracting, it was so out-of-the-blue impossible that it seemed counterintuitive; and when a memory didn’t add up, Zoro erased it.

“This is the last night of the new moon,” said Afande. “When the sun rises, Arethussa Falls will disappear again.”

“You mean the hole is going to fill up.”

“Yes.”

Something was bothering Zoro. “Exactly how did you guys get back to the surface after?”

“That won’t be a problem, trust me.”

He folded his arms. Corsairs rocked ambiguity like pointy swords and metal teeth. “Alright then.”

Bucket cleared his throat, and tapped his foot. “Aye, well. Your navigator will be needing instructions on how to approach the Falls, I expect -- I’ll inform her of the dangers -- ”

“You do that.” 

His eyes fluttered harmlessly off Afande’s flat gaze. “I will.”

“Fine.”

Bucket stormed off to stern. 

“Give him a break,” Zoro suggested. “This goes against his nature.”

“Stay in your lane, Pirate Hunter. Your captain is alive.” Afande leaned her palms over the rail. “This creature devoured fifty of my friends. I will not flee from it. I won’t leave until Arethussa is destroyed, gem or no gem.”

“Then why don’t you try putting up a fight, this time?”

The corsair bared her teeth. One hand brushed the hilt of her scimitar. Zoro thumbed _Wado_ from its sheath. 

“What happened to your old cutlass?” He asked. 

“It reminded me of the navy. _Kuweka_ is far less tame.”

She spun the thing like a pinwheel from hip to hip. Kuh- _ting!_ They collided at sound-breaking speed, and freelanced a single-sword sparring routine. Afande stuck her foot on the rail, flipped over him, and Zoro narrowly avoided a beheading with a quick pivot. She landed lightly and swung low, shocked his ankles with _Kuweka_ ’s blunted edge and spun the scimitar again -- Zoro tipped his jaw to avoid the upswing, and took his turn on the attack. She didn’t throw a ton of force behind her blows; Afande had mastered the sword style of the marines but fought with the lilt and cut-and-run curl of a corsair, slippery skills that didn’t make it into any dojo -- the sea was her dojo, as it had become Zoro’s. 

A fight was exactly what he needed. They sparred until Nami hollered at the Straw Hats to furl the sails. Zoro noticed that the wind seemed to be pulling them toward the rock circle. A collision with one of the towers would certainly be the end of the _Going Merry_. 

Zoro climbed the ratlines up the main mast and swung back down on the rigging, securing the main sail as he did so. Usopp furled the rear. 

A massive, liquid darkness slid over them, board after board; they were headed straight for a rock face. Activity aboard the Straw Hat ship accelerated to a frenzy. Luffy called the proximity from the bow, and Nami in turn hurled instructions to the stern, where Sanji heaved on the wheel. The rudder groaned and growled till it sounded ready to split. 

They missed it by less than a dozen oarlengths, slipping through a byway between the standing altars of stone like a last-gasp sinner -- seaspray bullets flocked the _Merry_ ’s sides, water slewed over the deck, and she bucked hard enough to send the crew flying bow to stern and back again. A knot came loose in the rigging, heralded by the sudden _clap!_ of wind catching a corner of the top-sail. Zoro was sent crawling up the ropes again, themselves trembling violently against the gale. The tard over the top sail was the highest crossbar on the main mast, just above the crow’s nest. He nearly free-falled back to the deck a few times, wrenched his shoulder unpleasantly in the rigging, and made it to the tard panting, blinded by icy flecks of atmosphere. After securing the wayward knot, and hauling in the sail, Zoro made the mistake of turning his head to peer in the direction the wind was blowing -- then he saw it: inside the crown of rock, a sinkhole like a gigantic black eye, many times larger than their ship, or any ship. More like a small island, or the empty hole of one; the Falls sucked in water and wind with audible, overlapping howls. Everything that touched it swallowed deep into nothingness. The _Going Merry_ caught its terrible drift. She heeled hard to port, the mainstay tipped over the void -- and suddenly Zoro was staring at the sinkhole head-on, like a tunnel in the very fabric of space, and all his sense of up and down vanished. 

“ _Nami!_ ” He roared against the windstorm. “We’re circling the drain!”

“ _I know!_ ” She returned. And Zoro could hear her pitching orders at the crew. All he heard was “Drop the port-side anchor!” Along with a smattering of “Are you _crazy?_ ” And then, finally: “Zoro, full-sail, _now!_ ”

Was Nami crazy? He wondered. Zoro undid the knot he just finished retying, and loosened the top-sail, then dropped below to grab the rigging under the main tard, and loosened the main foresail as well. The canvas immediately caught the gale and the ship lunged forward with a back-breaking jerk. Zoro was flung bodily from the mainstay. 

The pirate hunter hit the poop deck at bone-snapping speed and glanced across it like a skipping stone -- if he hit the back rail at this rate he was getting _julienned_ between the bars, they’d be fishing him from the brine in big bloody chunks -- 

The cook halted his trajectory with an actual foot. Not too delicate, then again, nothing about him really was. 

Zoro groaned. He took his hand off his katanas. “Shouldn’t you be… at the wheel?”

“It’s two feet away from me, dumbass. And I only needed one to stop you. Feel free to jump in anyway, though.”

“Shut up!”

“Anyway, keep up. Nami told us not to steer.”

Usopp’s voice carried off the main deck -- “Does anyone else feel like, that thing is coming for your _soul?”_

Zoro sat up. The weight of the anchor was dragging them into the vortex with increasing speed. The sails bloated with wind, and the rotational velocity forced the ship onto an arcing path that dipped dangerously down the bowl-edge of the sinkhole. Luffy hauled in the anchor at Nami’s command, and the speed of their descent down one side carried them skimming up another; _Merry_ rocked back over the cusp of the Falls, her sails caught the circling gale of wind, and against all odds, she began to orbit the great black eye. It was the most _holy-shit_ maneuver their navigator had pulled since she sent them sailing up the knock-up stream to Skypiea. The _Going Merry_ had flown through the sky, climbed a mountain into the Grand Line -- now she circled a gate to the bottom of the sea. 

“Well, moss-head? Still want to jump in?”

“How the hell did you manage to light a cigarette!”

“What are the odds you even make it out of there?”

“I don’t give a crap about the odds!”

“Then I don’t give a crap about _you!”_

Zoro started to snap back and bit his tongue. “What -- what is that supposed to mean?”

“This is fucking stupid!” Sanji growled around gritted teeth and a crooked, damp cigarette. “Dying in a hole doesn’t have anything to do with your dream! You do this, Zoro, and I won’t forgive you.”

The weirdest thing was he couldn’t remember the cook ever saying his name to his face before. 

He shoved himself to his feet. There was no point sitting around. The gate was open, and Zoro had a date with a dragon. He was feeling a little more beat-down than usual, and not just from the fall off the mainstay. A victory would lift his spirits. Cook or no cook. 

“Give me a boost.” He said. “Right in the center should do.” 

Zoro rushed him. Sanji turned away as he leapt, and must have powered his kick with all the hate in his eyes, because the launch flung Zoro far over the event horizon, ripped all the air from his chest, and for one lengthy second he hung weightless in the sky, lingering on the doorstep between up and down -- nothing to his name but pride and hurt and the will to live -- then gravity caught on; he started to descend, and Zoro didn’t have the conscious strength to fear the sinkhole beneath him. 

Or above him. Behind him. At one point it even felt like he was being dragged straight forward rather than straight down; the horizon didn’t just flip, it spun circles around him, walloped him over the head, and disappeared altogether. After a few minutes tracking the directionless dilation of space, Zoro blacked out. 

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art coming soon!
> 
> special thanks to all who left kudos, and feedback. very sweet. ^^

_...Zoro blacked out._

###### 

Weightlessness cushioned his limbs in pleasant warmth, and when he opened his eyes it was with sluggish, half-thought indifference: it could be a Saturday afternoon after a big fight, or a _big_ ger fight, or a long night of drinking. He was lost in an empty town; he was scattered over the _Going Merry_ ’s sun-warmed planks, waiting for a salty breakfast, a cursory beating from Nami, a glimpse of the cook’s left eye -- 

He could’ve been dying, he could’ve been _dead_ , it didn’t matter. Zoro had found a never-ending peace like Bucket’s.

Lilac cloudiness flooded his senses, fringed in pink, and the swordsman was certain everything surrounding him was also a part of him, down to the vapor trails in the pocket-black sky, far beneath his feet. _Down_ , down, down… the night was under his heels like puddles of black rain flecked in icy star material. 

The moment he recognized it, an axis of gravity like a spear pierced him through the gut and Zoro cried out -- or he would have, but abruptly the pleasant weightlessness revealed itself for what it was; he was completely submerged. The realization wrapped claws around his lungs and alarm wrenched the drowsiness from his bones. There were bodies all around him, rotted corpses and human skeletons floating in the broth. Zoro separated himself from the cloying sense of oneness, and swam instinctively for the surface. 

Cold illusions pumped through his veins. Logic informed him night had fallen, but the linear tread of time had collapsed; he felt it circling the underwater den, a cosmic serpent chewing its own tail. Stars hung heavily over his neck and shoulders. The dome of Arethussa’s temple shone bright bone-white, its fallen pillars and pointed arches like broken teeth studding the shallows. 

Zoro stood knee-deep in a flooded courtyard, hand on his swords. He tried to shrug the curious weight from his back, but it was all around him -- a fluid suspension of star-like things, fragments of diamond, glass, and dust. Finally the swordsman swatted at the air in front of his face and some of the glitter shifted but more arrived to take its place. The atmosphere sifted through his fingers with molten density, and even though it didn’t make any sense at all, some of the constellations seemed familiar: under his nose, the Red Phoenix; to his left, the White Tiger; sitting heavily on his shoulders, the Black Turtle… 

And to his right, a vein of pale blue. It came from above, it came from below, as if he stood on a mirror: a long string unspooled from the sky, and sprang from the shoal under his feet. Longer, longer, it grew upon itself until Zoro felt like he was rushing towards it, but he couldn’t move at all, only watch as the nameless coiling thing took shape out of stardust: it formed scales like the mirrored retinas of a fly, horns like ivory driftwood, countless legs and crooked talons; the most shocking thing about the Azure Dragon was its sad and willowy human face. 

Afande’s head broke the surface. She hauled herself onto the bank of the glass-like lagoon, coughing and spitting, and seized Zoro by the back of his collar. “Move, _move!_ ”

But Zoro was so stunned by the dragon’s appearance, he fell backwards instead, wild-eyed and wondering. He felt weak at the joints. Afande felt it, too: she collapsed to her hands and knees. “The ruins, Zoro,” she wheezed. “You have to get inside, the ruins.”

He smelled something foul on the air, suddenly. The taste of heavy metal soured on his tongue, and his ears caught up with the sound of the blast a moment later -- _spark, surge, sizzle!_ Afande shoved his head in the water, and heat roared over his back. 

“That’s not normal fire,” she rushed, pulling and pushing him through the brine. “It spits calcium-magnesium flares, ripping apart the air itself. If any part of it hits you, it's going to cling. We’re talking third-degree burns over 70 per cent of your body -- ”

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. The pale dragon opened its mouth, emitting a crash of white light and another delayed smash of sound. 

“Holy shit,” he croaked. “Why is it so pissed?”

“Too many fools in its lagoon, I suspect.”

“But there’s only two of us!”

Sanji’s head broke the surface. 

Zoro spun around. “What the hell are you _do_ ing?” 

“Shut up,” the cook sputtered. “Did you think I’d let you get all the glory?” He was hauling something along with him -- no, some _one_.

“You brought _Luffy?_ He’ll drown!”

“He wanted to come -- ”

“Of course he did, this is only the _stupid_ est place to bring someone with Devil Fruit powers -- ”

“All of you, _duck!_ ” Afande commanded. 

Zoro flushed his head underwater, and felt another wave of heat ripple overhead -- echoes of the blast rent the air, and a surface layer of hydrogen peeled off the water with a steamy hiss. 

The pirate hunter broke the surface again with a growl, officially in a foul temper, and threw his swords in the air. He found a foothold in a cracked colonnade and made a huge leap -- caught _Wado_ in his teeth and started his technique with the others barely settled in his palms. _“Three-Sword Style… ”_

The compressed wavelength of a hundred-and-eight caliber phoenix sliced a rift in the water’s surface so fast it walked in slow-motion up the dragon’s twisted side -- the creature roared and its skin exploded outward; specks like faraway stars flew from the cut, but there was no visible wound beneath them. 

Zoro alighted on a broken pillar and flinched when one of the specks stung him in the side. He looked and saw a pearly, razor sharp scale embedded deep in the flesh under his ribs. He hadn’t done anything but piss it off even more. 

One of the pale dragon’s talons lanced out -- it grabbed the ruin he perched on and crushed it into dust. The scent of heavy metals filled the air and Zoro dove for the death-infested water. 

Too late, he sensed a second claw headed for his back, and turned to face it head-on. A moment before it seized him it caught on a curved fang of steel instead -- Afande raked _Kuweka_ up the underside of the dragon’s five-clawed palm. Zoro got his wits together and pierced a third talon straight through, and another, but the flood of grasping claws was endless, and when they were both caged and unable to move from its myriad grasp, a great head lowered itself beneath the swirling current. Zoro looked into its sad eyes, and the dragon opened its mouth. For an instant, he thought he saw something shining deep in its throat. 

Before the blast could fully form, the dragon’s jaws snapped shut from the force of two black feet. Sanji pummeled its head repeatedly and the creature reeled back out of the water as if to sneeze. Zoro took his chance and ripped free of the clenching claws, breaking the surface to gasp for breath once more.

Luffy ran up the Azure Dragon’s spine, the flats of his sandals slapping hard scale. He reached out further than any normal human and wrapped his arms around the crooked horns until they resembled a tangle of rubber bands. Then he took a running leap and launched himself toward the shoreline, bringing the dragon careening along behind him. It landed heavily, belly-up in the shallows with a groan Zoro could feel deep in his own chest. 

A silver tail flicked out; Luffy took a solid hit across his middle and went flying across the underground cavern, breaking through rock and stone ruins one after another like rice paper: _khn-khn-khnk-_ until finally, _crunch!_

Zoro started to swim back for his crewmates but Afande curled her hand in his shirt and resumed dragging him toward the tattered remnants of the main temple. 

“Luffy -- ”

“They’ll be fine,” she growled. “Luffy is strong. That thing’s got a hide tougher than steel -- the three of us can hold it off, but we aren’t getting out of here alive without that sword, Roronoa!”

“You expect me to leave you here? If you try and fight it, you’ll die!”

“My time is up. I knew I probably wouldn’t make it out of here again. We can hold it off,” she insisted again. “But you need that sword. _Take_ it -- if you don’t, even if we aren’t swallowed whole, when the sun rises, your captain will drown.”

She shoved him at the shoreline so hard he nearly cracked a fucking tooth on the craggy shoal. The dome of the main temple glimmered like a brand new sun. 

The Azure Dragon coiled in on itself and unwound all at once, flinging a whirlwind of iridescent scales in every direction. The corsair stood and spun her scimitar from hip to hip, _kl-klng-klng-klink!_ Scales flew like knives. One bit into the flesh above her knee. She hissed. 

“Afande -- ”

“I’ll cut off its legs, one by one,” she muttered. “What’s a dragon without any legs? Nothing but a worm, I guess.”

She took off without another word, leaping lightly over the ivory wreckage along the shoreline. Zoro spied the tell-tale glow of Sanji’s fiery foot near Luffy’s crash site. Another catastrophic blast of magnesium flash-fire lit up the cavern. His inner ears were pounding; his head spun. The taste was awful. The dragon reeled from another kick to the head, but it snapped back again, and with a lash of its silver tail it sent a black figure flying. Zoro grit his teeth. He turned his gaze on the temple, and dragged himself from the brine. 

A symbol marked a block of stone near the entrance, probably once a central piece of the crumbling stone threshold; it looked like a pearl surrounded by a five-pointed claw. In the back of his mind, the shadow of some suspicion took shape.

The mark reappeared several times in the inner pockets of the ruin, and unthinkingly Zoro followed them, thumbing at his swords, but he didn’t sense anything and he didn’t run into anything more dangerous than old bones. Human remains, as far as he could tell, maybe some fish-men. Some of them looked like they had simply sat down and died -- like the will had been sucked out of them. 

Finally he reached a flooded chamber with a central feel to it. The temple had once been beautiful, intricately carved and decorated with a form of calligraphy that was meaningless to him. The arches that remained standing were pointed at the top like broad-faced leaves or scales. Stoney-eyed creatures with horns and talons scaled the standing walls. It didn’t seem like a temple built for a sea goddess. More like one built for a dragon. Until long ago, maybe, when something crept inside it...

Distantly he heard another roar, another gutting explosion, and the foundations on the desecrated shrine rattled a little mournfully.

“ _Welcome, swordsman,”_ came a thin, watery voice, with the tail-end echo of a wail. “ _To the altar of Arethussa…”_

Only one pillar was left standing in the whole chamber. Part of the ceiling had caved to let light in, but the rest was settled in shadow. The waves covering the floor shifted with unnatural depth. 

“Slay the beast that haunts this temple…” said the voice. “Return to me my mother’s gem, and I will grant you the power of a sacred weapon.”

Another bang from outside, so thunderous it shook broken plates of debris from the ceiling. More light trickled in. Water whispered flush against cracks in the stone exterior. 

Just like Afande’s story, a woman’s hand reached out of the flood, shining, delicate, and slim of wrist, but for some reason it filled him with horror. The blade in her grasp was unlike any he had seen before, double-edged, with a cross hilt and showy silver embossment. Worst of all it actually _did_ look like it was made of diamond -- more importantly, the aura on the thing rammed him like a battleship. Zoro took a deep, balancing breath and fought it back with his own. 

The hand bobbed closer. The sight of the sword was hypnotizing. Its tangible power, delicious. 

Zoro started to hear screams. 

“If you fail,” said the witch, in her veiled wail. “I will give you what you desire most… and take away what you need...”

“If you win," she added, with a hint of sardonic mirth. "The power of _Cal’iburn_ is yours to keep. Lose, and you will never love again. Either way, you will leave this place the greatest swordsman in the world.”

The sword was within reach, now. _Ev_ erything was within reach, thought Zoro. The dream he’d been chasing since he stormed into his first dojo at six years old -- it was floating two feet away, shiny as shit, basically throwing itself at him. All he had to do was reach out and touch it. 

If someone had told him about this temple five years ago, or even two… Damn it all, if he’d fallen down this hole last _week_ he would’ve grabbed the thing without a second thought. But all he could think about was that stupid, pervy cook. He did it on _pur_ pose, Zoro realized. Sanji dangled a little hope on a string in front of him just to spoil his dream, just to laugh at him when he jumped for it, curly-browed little shit. 

Screams ran rampant inside his head. Part of Zoro wondered if they were illusions, designed by Arethussa to force him into a quick decision. Another explosion rattled the outer wall.

Well, cook or no cook. It wasn’t like he had any choice, anyway. Zoro reached over the stone threshold and grabbed the stupid sword. 

The witch’s hand vanished. The instant his fingers wrapped around the hilt, _Cal’ibur_ fell to the temple floor, jerking his arm and shoulder along with it. “What the…” Zoro grunted with effort. He engaged his other hand, but couldn’t even get his fingers under the handle anymore. “Lift with your legs, man,” he scolded himself, and heaved until his brain felt ready to burst. It was no good. The damn thing was built into the earth. 

The dark water flooding the inner chamber seemed to titter and laugh. 

But the pirate hunter wasn’t done yet. He’d been lifting incredibly heavy shit since his face was full of baby teeth, no way was this diamond toothpick going to defeat him -- if Zoro couldn’t lift the sword, it meant the sword couldn’t be lifted. Period, _done_ -zo. He had to think about it another way. 

What had the witch said? _Power_ of, she kept saying _pow_ er of the sacred doodad... Did that mean… ?

Zoro knew a lot about the legendary swords of the world. He knew they took all sorts of shapes and sizes and abilities. What if this one _had_ no shape? He’d never heard of a noncorporeal blade before, but, this one had obviously been buried and mystified to actual Hell and back. 

The swordsman stood, lifted his knee, and crushed his heel over the legendary blade. It shattered like glass. 

Several things happened at once. A horrible, thin wail rose from the flooded chamber, and the waters danced dangerously high; another explosion rattled the stone under his feet, this time from _within_ rather than without. Zoro got the impression something was about to surface, something very pissed. 

He also heard a whisper at his hip. Nothing but a little hum, the sort of electromagnetic wavelength every metal spoke with, the language of swords and steel. 

It was _Sandai Kitetsu_ , Zoro’s cursed sword, the one he rescued from a barrel of cheap knock-offs. He drew it from its sheath. The innocent maneuver threw a compressed surge of energy across the chamber that blew the opposite wall to absolute smithereens. 

“Oh, shit,” muttered Zoro, rather pleased. _Kitetsu_ was so pumped it was shaking in his hand, brimming with new power. He spun it experimentally. Every movement of the shimmering blade left black mirror images behind it. He’d never seen anything quite like it --

“ _You…”_ the same voice rising from the waves but this time it shook with rage. “What is this... demonic aura? What _are_ you?”

He could see her face now, and part of her chest. Hair the color of dark seaweed, and skin like swampwater. Her eyes were large and unappetizingly moist, ditto the breasts, and long slithering serpent’s tail. Sanji’s dream-mermaid was about as dreamy as a wet armpit. A cadaver would cross the street to avoid her.

“You said slay the monster inside the temple, right?” Zoro settled into a half-moon stance, new sword at the ready. “I’m the guy who’s going to kick your ass.”

“What did you say!”

“I said you’re a monster, lady.”

“Insolent creature! This was not part of the deal, you fool!”

“Yeah, I’m not too smart, I guess. You should try clearing up your language to avoid these sorts of mix-ups.”

“ _Hssshh!_ You have no hope of defeating me! You stand in the mass grave of my victims -- I have lived thousands of years on their pain!” 

“Then you have nothing to worry about. If I lose, you can add me to the pile. I’m no good at single-sword techniques, anyway.”

Arethussa spoke a word. Water rose around her; the waves slimmed and sharpened into dozens of black spears, and they each made dives for his heart. 

“One-sword style,” Zoro hummed, sensing a rhythm from the sea sorcerer’s movement. He braced his wrist with his free hand. It felt like _Kitetsu_ was trying to leap at the enemy of its own accord. “Flying Dragon -- ”

Time slowed to a prowl. Arethussa made a coiled leap for a hole in the falling ceiling at the last moment, and Zoro lunged after her. It wouldn’t’ve mattered if she made it all the way to the South Blue in the next nine seconds -- her time was fucking _up_ , his sword-hand was burning for her blood, and it would find her no matter what. 

Stones and old bones went flying; the temple’s haggard foundations were finally giving way. Zoro resurfaced in the fluid light of the underwater cavern and released his attack in the direction of the fleeing goddess. Death arrived on dragon's wings and she erupted in blue flames. 

“ _Blaze_ ,” he finished, landing in the outdoor courtyard. 

Zoro didn’t count on the immensity of the blast wave; crescents of crackling energy carved a thick spiral through the ruins, so fast and dirty it cleaved the sad old building in two and sped on to its next target -- the sad old dragon. 

He didn’t mean to. He figured the dragon only wanted to keep people out of the temple and away from the witch. It was probably just used to asshole pirates diving in and trying to gank it for its hidden jewel -- maybe it didn’t deserve to die, but maybe it did. Zoro didn’t know and he didn’t care to make judgments about cosmic crap. Either way, it was an accident. His attack left the Azure Dragon in three separate pieces, and slowly, almost lovingly, blue fire licked over its leaking wounds. 

“Moss-head!” The cook was trotting towards him. One of his black legs was all burned up. 

“Sanji,” Zoro jumped down to the shallows. “You okay?”

His step faltered. He looked momentarily taken aback by the question. “Am I -- ? There’s a _spear_ sticking out of your chest!”

 _Oh?_ Zoro looked down. He hadn’t even noticed. In fact, his whole left arm was numb, right down to where _Kitetsu_ burned white-hot against his palm. The blade was still rattling, leaving black inverse shades of itself everywhere it went. With some difficulty, he forced it into its sheath.

“Zor-o!” He heard Luffy calling. His captain was making his way slowly over, helping Afande with her arm across his shoulders. Even from a distance, Zoro could see they were both worn down. Luffy was breathing hard. The corsair’s right leg stopped at the knee. 

He smelled cigarette smoke. 

“Did you -- ”

“I killed the witch,” answered Zoro. 

Sanji stuck his hands in his pockets. “Did you have to waste the temple, too?”

The swordsman shrugged, and collapsed to his knees. The cook swore. 

“Stubborn bastard! You shouldn’t even be conscious, let alone -- ”

Zoro opened his mouth, but sound was slow to arrive. “Move,” he rasped urgently. “Cook, get out of the way!”

“Huh?”

It was the dragon’s head, the dragon’s severed head was moving, wiggling towards the two of them through the water like a gigantic white-horned eel. Zoro struggled to stand -- he could hear Luffy shouting, still, and _Kitetsu_ whispered to him -- but he didn’t think he had the juice for round two. He got to one knee, reached for Sanji, and pulled. The cook fell to his ass in the shallows. Zoro found his footing, and took one shaking step forward, hand on his swords. 

Heavy metal breath filled his lungs. He definitely wouldn’t survive a magnesium flare, at this range. Sanji might live, but he’d have to say goodbye to his good looks, and most of his skin. 

The dragon’s gaze filled him with misplaced grief. There wasn’t anything worse than a sad monster, feared and hated. 

It opened its jaws wide, and seemed to wait. Something shined deep in its throat. 

Zoro took another step forward, and another. Sanji said something furious. He tripped over a row of pointed teeth, and caught himself, just as something roughly the size of a human skull, or a cannonball, rolled down the dragon's tongue. 

The pirate hunter blinked, bleary-eyed. The thing nudged at his foot like a lost kitten: the biggest, bluest pearl he had ever seen. He stared so deeply at it that he lost his balance and stumbled again. 

“Idiot -- ” The cook ducked under his arm and took some of Zoro's teetering weight. “Is that… ”

“The gem.”

Almost as soon as he recognized it, the dragon disintegrated -- no, it dematerialized, maybe, into thousands and thousands of pale, iridescent scales. One by one they scattered, leaving no corpse and no bones; the scales returned to the constellations of star material hovering over the deep sea lagoon, and then all of them, the White Tiger, the Red Phoenix, the Black Turtle, and the Azure Dragon, all plunged into the churning water. 

“We have to go!” Afande called. She and the captain finally reached them. “It’s over! The Falls are closing!” 

“How are we supposed to get back up?” 

“Not up, Blondie. The only way out is down. We fell into this place, and we will fall out.”

“You’re kidding me.” Zoro grit. 

The lagoon’s waters seemed to be on a deep slide to the planet’s core. A sinkhole opened in the center like a big, black eye. The wind rose, and began to howl. 

“You gonna make it?”

Zoro was going totally numb, flicking in and out of consciousness. Sanji was plastered to his side and he couldn’t even en _joy_ it. Damn it all. 

“It would be pretty dumb to die on the return trip after all that bullshit.”

“Agreed,” said Afande, looking wobbly.

“Okay,” Luffy grinned, the sound of laughter at their improbable victory and even less probable escape bubbling up in his chest. He steeled them all with his fist in the air. “Then let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eghh why am i such an idiot?   
> ignore those typos. I'm onto em!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Sanji pretends not to be worried, and it bites him in the ass. Actually it burns him a little.

###### 

Chopper used a bone-saw to dig the spear out of Moss-head’s chest. 

Luckily, the idiot was stone-cold comatose. In fact, Zoro stopped moving about halfway through the psychedelic underwater tunnel trip that spat them up in reality; somehow, all four of them made it back to the surface, right-side up at last, breathing in bits and pieces and beaten dizzy by the flood. Sanji remembered the first rosy breaths of dawn touching his face; the sky was calm and fair, the _Going Merry_ cast a quiet shadow over the endless blue plains -- and Zoro’s blood lagged like a long black thread behind them. 

By the time Chopper fired up the bone-saw, the pirate hunter was well past unconscious, but Sanji was sure the swordsman would’ve appreciated a drink, first, or a cursory dip in a barrel of whiskey.

He would think it was hilarious, if he was awake to see it: an eight-foot-tall mandeer in lab goggles and a borrowed apron, going at his chest like a lumberjack trimming a mossy old log. Chopper hummed a tune while he worked, in between patiently dictating Sanji the book on lung disease. He was fifteen and he kind of cried a lot, Sanji thought, for a fifteen-year-old, but the kid knew what he was doing when it came to medicine. He had the chops, so to speak. 

After the morning excitement, Sanji stocked the larder. He reorganized, rotated, and recounted everything before leaving a delicate note in Nami’s inventory log about the food allowance. He gave her two numbers; what he'd like to spend on food, and what they could get away with spending on food in the next couple months. She usually budgeted somewhere in between.

After working out the numbers, Sanji spent a couple of hours forcing his company on the ship's navigator, who liked special treatment, and put up with a little bit of tender love and care -- but she jumped overboard for a swim before long. Nami was beautiful even when she avoided him. The cook went on a search for Robin, then, and found the archeologist in the study. She flogged him over several games of Othello. Finally, Sanji excused himself, clutching the remains of his pride and a couple of cracked cigarettes. He was out of things to do. Feeling tired, beaten, nineteen and roundly ignored, he called off the search for love, and meandered down to Chopper’s office.

The ship’s doctor was at his microscope, a mess of reading material scattered across his desk, mortars and pestles of varying sizes, flurries of dry ingredients dangerous and benign. The evening burned bright off _Merry_ ’s starboard side, casting books, jars, dust, glass instruments and growing things in golden light. Sanji eased past the reindeer into the next room, a small cabin the Straw Hats dedicated to medical emergencies. It had a window, so Chopper kept plants in there. And more haphazard outcroppings of textbooks. The cot was the only thing that seemed out of place, really. Well, that and its green-haired occupant.

“Hey, Moss-head,” Sanji grunted. Zoro was unconscious, but he felt he should announce himself, at least. “Still laying around? You’ll start going flabby, if you don’t wake up and lift a brick house, soon.”

Sanji sighed. It wasn’t any fun when he didn’t fight back. 

“I don’t know if anyone told you,” he idled on. “Some other people swam up the Falls last night. Or fell, I suppose, back down them -- _ugh_ , forget it. Some crewmates of your friends made it. Some of them were still alive down there, I guess. They’ve been partying all day. Luffy went over to the _Princess Mayoka_ for a banquet this morning, and hasn’t come back. Believe it or not, he can digest that cooking.”

Sanji shifted aside pots of laughing mushroom and leafy borage, reshelved _Dr. Hogback’s Guide to Healing From the Heart_ , and took a seat on the window-ledge with the most current copy of the newspaper --

“It’s like I’m cooking pearls all day for people who eat rocks,” he hummed. “What’s the point if they can’t tell the difference?”

Still no bounty. What the _shit_ , already. Sanji was _dang_ erous, damn it!

The cook sighed through the headlines, exasperated. At this rate, Zoro was going to break a hundo while Sanji was still waiting around to exist. 

The other news left him no less dissatisfied, and he set the paper aside, digging for his cigarettes, and cracked the window before Chopper could clop in and lecture him some more. The doctor was so incensed about his habit, lately, he’d started to offer him _alternatives_. 

...Who even had green hair, anyway? 

Sanji pinched his cigarette in one hand. He leaned over one knee to eye the cot’s sleeping occupant, and traced the outer curve of his ear. His hand slipped behind it. Softer than you’d expect. 

He didn’t startle away when company arrived, in fact he didn’t move one bit. He recognized Afande, a few comrades dogging her while she adjusted to life on one leg -- Sanji didn’t recognize the other woman. He liked the corsairs, for the most part. He just had a bad feeling, lately. He had a feeling that deep rifts were growing inside the Straw Hat crew, whether they knew it or not. 

Shadows of clouds freckled the small cabin. Outside, the _Going Merry_ ’s iron stitches and wood seams keened in the westerly wind.

“It’s no wonder he chose this crew,” Afande announced, looking imperious and proud but her voice rusted over from some recent pain. “You have the same wildness, the same disregard.”

“Don’t put me on the same level as him,” said Sanji. He turned to exhale out the window. The evening dribbled down to syrupy reds. “I’ll just end up looking stupid.”

“I’m not just talking about you, Blondie. Your captain, too. The three of you are... quite monstrous.”

Sanji noticed her grinning at him and he melted for her, all over again, but even while his heart fluttered and his face warmed the sea cook felt his mood darken. His eyes fell back on his crewmate. The poetry wasn’t really coming in hot.

“How’s your curse?” He said, instead of something moronic. “Is it gone?”

Afande laughed. “Polite of you to ask. No, this is still how I looked in my twenties.”

“I mean the other part of the curse.”

She shook her head. The wry humor disappeared. “No, something is cut off. It’s like... standing at a well. I can peer down it, but I cannot draw water from the bottom. Soon I will hate and resent the things in that well. Do you know what I mean?”

Sanji thought of the island where he starved. The irony still gnawed at him; dying of hunger surrounded by plenty. An aspiring cook stranded in the great blue sea, free to look but unable to taste. It was the cruelest torture.

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“What scares me the most, is,” Afande’s voice carried even when she was quiet. “I'm beginning to get used to it. You know. Being thirsty. One day I may wake up, and not feel it anymore. I may forget the well exists. This is no way to die, Blondie.” 

“Sanji,” he offered, tapping a bit of ash into the pot of borage.

“It is _no_ way to die,” she said, stronger. “Just by standing around, forgetting how to live.”

Sanji pulled his hand from his crewmate’s hair and stuffed it back in his pocket. 

A thick silence settled in, under the creaking rushing whistling sounds of a ship at sea. One of the corsairs had taken a seat on the squeaky stool. The spare cabin only had one chair in it, and Sanji avoided it because sitting in that chair meant you were _vis_ iting and he certainly wasn’t. He was only killing time, chain-smoking on this cramped windowsill -- trying out a new theory; maybe the closer he smoked to the doctor, the further he was from a lecture. 

Afande sat in the chair, of course. It was a Chopper-sized chair so you sat with your knees in your face. She was beautiful even recently maimed, elbow-to-elbow with four dirty pirates on upturned boxes and crates like a kindergarten class. 

The foot-stool squeaked again. The one corsair whose name he didn’t know -- striking woman, a shape-shifter, or something. There was a strange mark across the middle of her face, like white-gold leafing.

“What a grim world I’ve returned to.” She popped her D’s and T’s.

A noisy squall picked up outside. Sanji felt its breath on his elbows. The corsair was shelling pistachios onto the floor, _ck! ck! ck!_ \-- and shuffling them into rank and line with her boot-heels. She kicked up a laugh that sounded dried in the sun.

“Or maybe it’s this grim little crew,” she aimed a boot at Afande’s chair. “Especially you, shitty officer-pirate. Cursed with eternal beauty? Too damn bad. Stone-hearted immortal is a good look on you, Afande.”

“ _Dragon-food_ was a better look on you!”

“Go on, draw your sword. What are you going to do, officer, jump to your foot? Hop over here and skewer me? Can I get you a cane, or a walker?”

“Screw you! You’re the one who's going to need a walker in a second, you old bat!”

“Old _bat!”_ Another sun-dried, hyena laugh. “I’m in my thirties."

"Barely."

"I’m younger than you!”

“ _Bare_ ly.”

“You’re only mad I have something to hold over you, now. _I_ should be mad. I’m gone hardly two days, and come back to what? My ship is wrecked. You bully my first mate, try to turn my crew of cowards into loyal marines. You even drove these kind-hearted strangers to risk their lives and settle a score.”

Afande’s hand left her scimitar. She crossed her arms. “I didn’t make them do anything -- ”

“You broke the code! I should have you off this ship! Not this ship, I’ll take you back to _my_ ship, and then I’ll have you off it!”

Nahar cleared his throat uneasily. He was catty-cornered into a couple of leaning bookshelves and a tall potted vine growing orange lanterns. “Ease up, Captain. We all broke the code. We thought you were dead -- ”

“All the more reason to turn around! Follow Bucket’s command!”

There was some tittering, a bit of muffled laughter among the corsairs. Then Mardukh’s voice, rudely: “Follow Captain _Bucket?”_

“Yes!” Kaisa barked. Her stool squealed. “Captain _fuc_ king Bucket! Is there something wrong with that?”

Even Sanji shook his head. He realized the first night they spent aboard the corsair ship might have been some kind of bloodless mutiny.

“I’ll have you all swabbing decks like chore-boys, after this. Dish duty for a month! Shypit’s getting a break. I’m sure _he_ didn’t go along willingly with this madness.”

“Not sure he even knew you were gone, Captain.”

The presence of a pirate captain always hit on a different spectrum, Sanji discovered. With Luffy, it was the difference between night and day: so massive you forgot to acknowledge it, sometimes. When the captain of the corsairs made herself known, it was sort of like, you smelled something burning this whole time, and only just noticed the fire.

“It’s all these stories,” said Kaisa, lowly. “Making everyone think magic goes on forever, but like anything man-made, it has a due date. Arethussa lied. She was not the daughter of Chaos but an old fiend with a bad habit of eating the love out of handsome suitors. I’ve seen it happen before -- you get familiar with a certain kind of magic, you like the way it feels, but use it again and again and it twists you into something else.” She flicked another nut shell on the floor. It skittered into line. “Her magic was powerful but not permanent. Fear not, officer. Your youth won’t last, but you’ll still have your pretty face... Lucky you; some of us have to make do without either!”

“Will you quit _cackling_.” Afande grit. “What about the _other_ part of the curse.” 

“I am curious about the dragon,” Kaisa went on, without acknowledging her subordinate. “Now that’s a kind of magic not easily shook! I wonder what his punishment will be, for killing a celestial creature?”

Sanji looked up from a fresh cigarette. “What do you mean?”

“Well. I can’t say for sure, but,” while she spoke, the corsair captain tugged a small red sachet from the inside of her coat, and loosened the drawstring. “Typically when a super-terrestrial critter goes from here today to gone tomorrow, there’s after-effects on the material plane. Tell you the truth, I’m also curious about that fourth sword of his.”

“But he only came back with three.” Sanji murmured. 

“Can’t you feel it?” She breathed deep and loud. “Pity the fool had to smash the old vessel. It was a legendary object itself: weak as glass on the outside, unbreakable from within -- the unliftable diamond scabbard contained the Fatal Swing for hundreds of years without incident; come to find our old friend the pirate hunter’s put his foot through it!”

Kaisa emptied the bag’s contents on the floor over the pistachio shells; they were little bones, bird’s bones. Sanji eyed the growing mess on Chopper’s floor, puffing nervous smoke. He slowly realized the captain was looking at him. 

“The remains of a three-legged crow,” she grinned. Silver touched each corner of her mouth. “Do you mind? All mine are wet.”

Sanji looked at her hand outstretched toward him, blanked, and hastened to hand over a cigarette. The corsair flicked it out of his fingers and it vanished over the swordsman’s bedside in an instant. “Not that. Who gave you those fairy cigarettes? Someone’s fucking with you -- a match, please, Blondie. If you don’t mind. Thanks.”

 _Scrriiiit!_ The burning match fell to the small pile of bones and scrap. It lit up yellow, sparked high and then simmered low. A few of the bones cracked, some of them popped, shells rattled. When a sturdy ankle bone split in three pieces, the corsair snatched it up, stuffed it into a jar still burning, and twisted on the lid.

She tossed the jar to Sanji. “Go on, shake it.”

A working cook from a young age, Sanji was used to being handed strange things and told to shake, stir, whip, or knead in a corner. He shook the jar. The glass was smoked up from the inside but he could hear the three bone fragments rattling around in there. Maybe they were supposed to break up smaller, he thought, and shook harder. 

Meanwhile, the captain was speaking, and her crew leaned in. “Consciousness is a feather, my friends. It is attached to a particular stream. We may temporarily experience attachment to other similar bodies, but the self-driven soul is most at home in its own waters. When we are terribly afraid or heavily injured, this link is in peril; you are too weak, you lose control, and the stream will flood. No banks, no boundaries, the currents run wild. The feather flies away.”

Afande flipped her hand. “This is ridiculous.”

“How do you get the feather back, Captain Kaisa?”

“Excellent question, Nahar. Sometimes, you can’t. Infants, for example, often have their souls startled out of existence by the loud noises of careless blunderers.”

Whispers of dismay among the corsairs. “Oh, no!” “ _Zoro!"_ Afande sighed heavily.

“Not to worry, lads,” Kaisa raised her hands. “The older we get, the trimmer our banks! The conscious mind cannot fly far from what anchors it. Luckily, I know a few simple tricks, for getting it back. First -- ”

The corsair captain produced a red string from her pocket, leaned toward the cot, and tied it around the sleeping swordsman’s wrist. “Circles,” she explained. “Help link the soul to the body.”

 _Squee-ee-_ the stool complained again. “Then, all you have to do is create a vessel, a physical intermediary to ferry the consciousness back home. The vessel must be more attractive than the beat up old body, or else it won’t take. You can stop shaking it, now, cook. Don’t want to knock him senseless a second time.”

 _Huh?_ Sanji looked down at the jar in his hand. He almost forgot about it. The bones didn’t clatter anymore. He thought his hand was getting tired but the jar seemed heavier, actually, and when he stopped moving it, the smoke inside settled into a dense column. It took on a sort of, tone. A greenish tone.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Kaisa hummed. “It’s completely natural, you know. His color. Err, not that there’s anything wrong with it. Green, I mean. I’m sure it grows on you! I mean, good God, I hope it doesn’t... Go ahead and twist off the lid, now. Yes, give it a tap. It’s fine.”

Sanji upended the jar over his leg. The smoke climbed out. He jumped when something really _landed_ on him, and it jumped too, flicked its wings impatiently at him, before leveling the room with a baleful glare. 

“ _Kaisa_ ,” a little mid-pitched growl. “What the hell, lady? Did you have to do this to me? In front of the pervy _cook?!”_

Kaisa spread her hands disarmingly. “I was just reading the energy in the room, pirate hunter. I wanted to make sure you found your way back safely, so you could talk to us.”

“I’d rather be dead!”

“Is that... Zoro?” Sanji muttered, wondering. He pulled on one of the tiny wings, poked at its stubby horns. It was almost his crewmate, this demon-looking thing.

“Don’t touch me!” It made a sword out of smoke and jabbed him with it. “I’m nothing but Black Magic right now!”

  


“That’s such an impolite way of putting it,” the captain chuckled warmly. “You can go back to your body whenever you want, man. Just prepare for the pain that comes with that. In the meantime, I want to know how you killed that dragon.”

“I’m not sure I really did. Or, I didn’t mean to -- ”

“Wait,” Sanji interrupted, still wondering at the creature on his leg. “So he can wake up whenever he wants to, now?”

“Yes."

"Lady, you are so dope."

"It's a simple trick."

“Are you a witch?” Sanji asked.

“I’m a humorist.” Kaisa grinned. “It’s like alchemy but without common sense.”

Just as the sea cook was falling in love with her, he noticed the other corsairs looking sniffy. Nahar rubbed fresh tears from his face. There was a sudden outpouring of emotion: “ _We missed you, Captain Kaisa!”_

“Oh, you lot.” The captain giggled. “It’s so easy to impress men. Go on, all of you, get out of here -- I’ll see you at the banquet tonight. Don’t ride Bucket, anymore. And give the Straw Hats some space! God knows I’m already sick of looking at ye.” The corsairs started to hustle out boisterous and unnecessary farewells. Sanji waved them off. They were all headed for Water Seven, anyway.

“Hang on a second, petty officer -- ” 

Afande was the last one out. She turned stiffly. “ _Don’t_ call me that anymore. I’ve been part of this crew for ten years!”

Kaisa nodded, unbothered. “Yes, alright. I remember. You were just as demanding and unreasonable back then. I have to talk about serious things now. Come do my hair later, though. I’m an awful mess. Please, officer?”

The former marine rolled her eyes, tucked her wooden crutch under one arm and turned away. “Aye-aye, captain.”

The sun finally set. It was time for Sanji to go light lanterns around the galley, but he sat for a while longer. The corsair captain pulled a pipe from her coat and knocked the dottle against the heel of her boot. She produced a few ears of dried leaf from a little snuffbox. Sanji offered a light. 

“Afande is the reason you’re alive, you know.” The demon-Zoro. 

“I know that.” Kaisa shook out the match. “I also know there’s no such thing as a one-legged swordsman.”

“So! There’s no such thing as a woman pirate captain, either!”

A snort. The first puff of smoke off the pipe, fragrant, filmy white. “Lies. We’re out here. They just don’t talk about us. Especially not -- ” in a hushed, brutal whisper: “ _Black Magic_ users.” The corsair laughed suddenly, stomping in the mess of ash and bone on the floor. “It works for the Red Fleet. Even White Beard is so determined we don’t exist, the Grand Line is like open territory. We are looked at but never seen, hidden in plain sight. Wolves in wolves’ clothing. Yes, corsairs are living poorer and poorer, these days, but, at least -- so is everyone else!

“My ship is so fine,” cackled Kaisa. “Even the marines wanna join!”

“You really think Arethussa’s curse will just go away?” Sanji asked. 

“Honestly? I’m not convinced it’s Arethussa’s work to begin with. But it’s a captain’s burden to dwell on such things.”

“Then whadda you _really_ think?” The demon chirped. Sanji caught each of its wings in one hand and pulled them gently out and in. It was kind of fun -- he wanted to take it shopping with him. “ _Cook_ ,” a little hiss. “ _I’m going to kill you!”_

“I think mortal magic could be the least of your worries, boys. That sword, it has the stink of a bad history about it. It’s in here with you, yes?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Chopper put all my swords over there -- Sanji, grab _Kitetsu_... ”

“Better not.” Kaisa flapped her hand. Sanji sat back down. “Better not touch it. Cursed artifacts tend to form binding contracts when touched, or else enter into a battle of wills with the nearest unlucky soul -- if it really is a _Kitetsu_ blade, that’s a doozy to begin with. It’s a twice-cursed object, now. Who knows what’s going to happen? You might come out the other end of it a bit, err, touched, yourself.”

The demon fluttered back to his knee. It was looking more and more like Moss-head. Sanji caught its lashing tail between his fingers. “Are you saying, this, _Cal’iburn_ something-or-other is inhabiting _Kitetsu_ now?” 

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of! Why are all you crumby corsairs so damn ambiguous!”

“Calm down, pirate hunter. You’re breathing fire. The other reason I wanted to talk before you woke up -- _Cal’iburn_ , if it is truly the sword from the lore, is the only one of the ancient blades that takes no solid form; the Fatal Swing not only binds to the steel of its wielder, it binds to the wielder himself. The sword becomes part of your body, Zoro. It may change your personality.”

“Huh? Like right now? I don't feel any different. It did make my arm go kind of numb, earlier.”

“Right now your consciousness resides in a vessel purely of its own creation. I’ve pulled all sorts of things out of that jar,” Kaisa mused. “And you’re the only one who comes out looking vaguely like yourself. Must be all that meditating under waterfalls. I’ve had plenty of amorphous clouds, some blobs, a few pairs of eyes, a cockroach, even an olive, once. Chances are it was an actual olive, though. Poor fellow never recovered.”

“Black Magic,” Zoro muttered. “I warned you, _years_ ago, never to do this to me.”

She shrugged. “It was a special circumstance. You can go ahead and wake up, now. I just wanted to warn you, things might be different.”

“Can he just stay like this?”

Zoro whirled around, smoking from the ears. “Shut up!”

Sanji picked at his wings again, chuckling. “ _This_ is your consciousness, of course. You’re so pure, man. _Ouch!_ Oh, shit. You really are breathing fire. Can you light my cigarette?”

“That’s it!” It hissed. “I’m climbing back into my body so I can kick your ass!”

“Okay, fine, go ahead. Do you need help getting over there?”

“Stop touching me!”

As soon as the small demonic swordsman reached his own bedside, its form loosened at the edges and became smoke again, drifting lightly over skin and bandage until Zoro inhaled it, step after step. 

He came awake like a seizure, and grit his teeth halfway down on a shout of agony. Sanji startled. He almost forgot his crewmate had been completely railed through. Zoro's presence expanded like a stormcloud and a noticeable heaviness leaned over the small cabin. Sanji wondered if this was the 'demonic aura' people were always going on about. It didn’t make him nervous or anything but he wouldn’t mind stuffing it back into that harmless little wingding. 

A familiar baleful glare landed on the captain in the room. He squinted at her in dumb recognition. “ _Kaisa?_ What the hell… you’re supposed to be dead.”

The corsair sat in shadow, puffing rings. She gave him a little wave.

“Moss-head, you missed it,” Sanji slid off the windowsill. “Chopper dug the spear out of your chest with a bone-saw.” It was _awe_ some.

Zoro squinted at Sanji even longer. He almost started to feel awkward. Stupid _marimo._ Acting creepy, again. Finally: “Hn? Now I know I’m dreaming. What are you doing here, cook? Don’t you have something better to do? Go polish Nami’s toenails.”

Yes, that was Zoro. Taller than him again. Back to being oblivious, sort of hard-edged. Too difficult to like, anyway. Sanji felt his own bitterness rise to bite back. “Actually I just came to remind you your beer ration has been cut in half while you recover. Doctor’s orders. You’ll have to keep your blood-alcohol level below a hundred and ten per cent, the next few weeks.”

His response was instantaneous. “ _Weeks?_ Are you trying to kill me? I’ve got a hole in my chest! Bring some brandy down here, at least. Or you can just stop pretending to give a damn about me altogether -- ”

“Deal!” 

Sanji left, calmly. He really did have shit to do. He didn’t have time to blow smoke rings and tell cool dragon stories with gifted strangers all night -- it didn’t make him angry, not one bit. Sanji worked as a cook most of his life, but a good deal of it had been customer service. Caring about people and expecting to be cared about in return, it didn’t always work out. He was used to that.


	8. Chapter 8

###### 

Sanji never returned with brandy, but that was no surprise. Zoro just wanted him out of the room -- being shoved around in your raw consciousness and then waking up in the worst shape of your life really sucked. He’d rather _no_ one saw it, but especially not the cook.

He made the mistake of biting off an inconsiderate complaint and got his ass handed to him by the corsair captain, who couldn’t offer a single piece of advice without manifesting something unholy, and all Zoro could do was lay there and take it, bedridden, trapped choking in the river rapids breaking off her pipe -- 

He hadn’t missed Kaisa at all. Truth be told, if a dragon’s belly had been the witch’s end, Zoro couldn’t think of anything more fitting. She wasn’t famous, she wasn’t worldwide, the marines didn’t even consider her a person of interest. In fact, corsairs made it a point of pride to avoid publicity. Across hundreds of ships and thousands of scumbags, only a handful of the Red Fleet had big names and bounties. Among them, Sagar the Whip, Ironhead Selassie, Nezzar T. Range, and rumors of an elusive ghost-ship called _Nebelung_ , creature from the mist -- captained by Kitana S. Fink, said to have the head of a woman and the body of a lion. “Damn those sea cops!” was a laughing sentiment aboard the _Princess Mayoka_. Between the Growler and the limping Straw Hat ship, you wouldn’t guess which flag was worth three hundred million berries and which was worth zip. 

Zoro flinched at the cool stroke of scales against his outer arm. “ _You said you got rid of the snakes!”_ He flapped his blanket.

“Whoops. Don’t be so mean to her.” From the reaching shadows a reaching hand. It snared the blue-black water snake round the gills. “I don’t think she knows yet, why she is defecting.”

“Is that,” he frowned. “Some kind of metaphor, or, a prophecy? I’m not really good at figuring out either.”

A torch on the outer deck glanced inside the cramped cabin in fleeting filigrees, buffeted by the wind. His eyes had adjusted as night fell, but a few impenetrable pockets of deep shadow remained, blackness in the corners of his vision, so complete it looked endless. The pirate ship was a silent planet. 

“Not a prophecy; just one potential.”

The snake wrapped around Kaisa's forearm in a twisting throttle, thrashing like a bullwhip. It seemed to avoid looking at her. Eventually two satin fangs sank into the pirate captain’s finger, she looked it in the eye, and spoke a word -- the snake's body continued to thrash. Zoro watched, entranced by its winding coils, winding, winding, until it became a ring, and shrunk to stone on her wrist. 

Kaisa puffed on her pipe. 

“Lady, you’re freaking me out.”

“Take a deep breath, pirate hunter.”

Zoro glanced around. All the magic in the air had him nervous. “What will happen to me if I do?”

“Nothing,” she chuckled. “Except calm you down, maybe.”

 _Ugh_. “That’s not possible. The smell in here is like skunk and pine-fresh. What’re you smoking?”

“You must remember -- from Mirror Island in the West, the strain is Blue Dream.”

“Oh, yeah. I hated that place.”

“The port is poor and sad, aye, but the island holds many secrets! You should have let me stuff that chickenhead barkeep, when I had the chance.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong!” Zoro snapped. “I was fifteen, you were creeping me out!”

Smoke spiralled in the barrel of her eye. “He had some information I needed. You stepped in on an interrogation.”

“He didn’t know anything! You guys came in with an attitude, and cornered the wrong dude.”

“Who told you that?”

“ _Buck_ et, he was sitting right there! He bought me a drink while you turned that poor guy’s eyelids into wood moths!”

“That was only -- temporary.”

“You messed him up, and he didn't even deserve it!”

“Even if I was wrong that one time, all men need a shake-down once in a while. I'm sure he had it coming.”

“Admit it, you’re a villain.”

“I’m a pirate, what do you expect? Worse, a woman!” 

“ _Tch_ ,” Zoro snorted. “I think we’ve all heard _that_ excuse enough. You must have Afande on the Blue Dream, too. I have no idea why she rode with your crew for so long.”

“She doesn’t smoke,” the corsair spread her hands. “So your guess is good as mine. Maybe she likes us.”

“Yeah, keep cackling. I’m onto you, witch -- you took her on ten years ago hoping for some marine tail, and you fucking _got_ it, didn’t you?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kaisa crossed her ankle over the opposite knee and knocked out the dottle on her pipe, again. The ship doctor’s pristine floor was a growing mess of kicked ash, bone and seedy cast-asides. “You sound jealous. Jealous and bitter. Is it because you don’t have the stones to pursue Blondie? Doesn't take a humorist to read _that_ energy. I have a trick that can help with that, you know. But it has some, unexpected side-effects.”

“You’re disgusting,” he observed.

“Pirate.”

“We’re pirates, too! _We_ don’t muck up our floors.”

“But I’m a _born_ pirate. You all just put the hat on. I like your crayon colors, but the flag on _my_ ship represents a long, handed-down and hard-won heritage. Part of being a pirate is owning the ground you stand on, wherever it be. Besides, if I don’t muck up the floors, the chore-boys will have nothing to do.” She looked up from her pipe, serious. “You never pretended to be a pirate before. What happened?”

Zoro sank down on his elbows. Sitting up was hard. His chest was numb, everywhere else felt like a bruise. He managed a small shrug. “I met Luffy. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m still out for myself, but I like this crew, I like his style, I want him to get where he’s going, too.”

“Aye, finding a captain who inspires you can feel that way,” she nodded, low on her stool amidst tidepools of tilting shadow. “Most of my crew come from places of powerlessness. Something you had in common with them. I have a couple of good tricks; they think I know everything, and I can _do_ anything -- it strengthens us, I don’t know for how long.”

“How long has it been?”

“Twenty-six years, already.” Silver glinted at the corners of a wide smile. “I inherited the flag at twelve years old. My captaincy is in its infancy! Corsairs have been known to exaggerate, but, they say my uncle Madhab commanded the Fleet for four-t’ousand forty-two _years_ before Death caught up, and escorted the old tiger personally across the river.”

“Your legends always have to do with heroically _run_ ning away, I’ve noticed.” Zoro grumbled. “Is that how you hook the children?”

“It’s a lifestyle.” She shrugged. “There are some in our ranks who dislike the old ways. Living like roaches, they say.”

“What do you say?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with life on the low end.” The stool squeaked as she leaned but Zoro could hardly see the corsair, just parts of the pale archipelago pattern that fluttered across her nose. “I’m in my _god_ -body, boy, I’m not jealous of any of you -- wannabe pirate-kings, title and crown-worshipping motherfuckers! But... I do want to take a shot at the scags at the very top, sometimes.”

Kaisa rose and promptly kicked over the stool she was sitting on. “Hey!” Zoro had to intervene. “Seriously, why are you wrecking the place?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s just a habit. I want to show you something.” The captain removed a sack of netting from her belt jangling with hard-surface things, propped one foot on the bed frame and tossed it at him. “A bunch of these washed up with us after the Falls closed. Look familiar?”

It landed in his lap and Zoro recognized the contents immediately: razor-sharp and saucer-like, pale as flower petals. “These are dragon scales.”

“Yup. You can have them -- we got barrels full. They're worth quite a bit. The ancients not only traded in dragon scales but forged weapons from them. Weapons of undefeatable might.”

“What are you getting at?”

She grinned. “I’ve been wondering. Did you get the feeling that dragon was sort of, _off?”_

Zoro rolled his eyes. Conversations with corsairs were always like getting dragged in circles. “I don’t even know what a dragon is like in the first place. Only the millennium dragons are supposed to exist anymore, and they live in hiding.” He thought back to the fight. “It did seem kind of depressed.”

“Right? I remember being swallowed, but nothing was what you'd expect it to be; there was no acid, no toxic gas. I fell into its throat, stuck, cut up and bleeding, and felt transported to another place. It was a wonderful place. All the pain of the physical world, gone up in smoke. I left my body in the boudoir, and became pure being.”

“That’s a cool story, man, but you must have been blue-dreaming. Unconscious, or in a coma, or something.”

“No, see, I think I really _was_ transported. I think the gem in the legend wasn’t a gem at all, it was some kind of _device_ \-- ”

“I’m not in the mood for a device.”

“ -- makes the individual experience _in_ finite empathy! Touch it, and become like a god! If the legends are true, the possibilities are… intimidating. The dragon probably ate the gem to hide it, and accepted the suffering of a whole universe to boot. Shit, that’s love! That thing’s consciousness was on a higher plane when you destroyed its body; you didn't kill it, you _freed_ it!”

“Meaning what?”

“Where does the feather go when it flies from its stream, Zoro!”

The swordsman frowned. “Again, metaphors. Not my forte.”

“To the _next_ best vessel,” the pirate captain, incensed. “Your sword, man! Your _Sandai Kitetsu_ was forged from dragon scales!”

“Huh? You think so?”

Kaisa crossed her arms. 

“ _Kitetsu_ was already cursed,” he mused. “And since I broke the diamond shell, it’s cohabiting with _Cal’iburn_ , the Fatal Swing... Now you’re saying, what, it’s a dragon, too? There’s no way one sword could contain power like that!”

“Remind me what happened when you swung it.”

“Um, the building fell down, Arethussa was incinerated. And, the dragon exploded. And now, I... can’t feel anything…” Zoro blinked. “Wait. Is my sword the _Moon?”_

Kaisa hummed grimly. “I would try not to draw it again, if I were you. Come see the root doctor with us in Water Seven. Maybe they can help.”

“If I can even _stand_ , by then.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

The door opened and warm light broke over the walls from Chopper’s office, leaving both occupants blinking. “Captain.” Afande leaned against the doorframe. “It’s been ages. Come on -- I’m not waiting around while you smoke into the small hours.”

More ash trickled to the floor. The corsair flashed a last cocksure grin at the bedridden swordsman, turned and snapped an approximation of a salute at her crewmate. “Yes, baby.”

###### 

The next day, Usopp left the crew. And while everyone was still reeling, Robin disappeared into the city without a word.

Zoro heard everything, but missed seeing Usopp’s fight with Luffy. He didn’t realize getting stabbed through the chest would be such a big deal -- it was the most debilitating wound he’d had in a while, and he knew the quickest way to be done with it was to rest, but laying around semi-conscious at the inn while the rest of the crew bought a new ship and explored Water Seven sounded really lame.

The second day at port Zoro asked Kaisa for more jar magic. The jar wasn’t magic, she explained. It didn’t work that way, unless you were abruptly and violently unconscious. Special circumstances, she said. There could be consequences for yeeting a conscious spirit purposely from its host -- Zoro told the witch to get on with it, even if his eyeballs fell out. 

He was still trying to flap open the door to the Straw Hats’ room when the cook opened it from the outside, and nearly stepped on his tail. “Watch it, curly-brow!”

“Oh,” Sanji blinked down at him. “Moss-head. You’re looking especially... cute.”

“Shut up!” 

“Aw. Look at your little fangs, dude. So pure. Where are you going like that?”

“Um,” Zoro glanced left and right. He hadn’t thought further along than getting _outside_. “Don’t know yet.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m going out to finish my list. Want to ride along?”

“No.” That sounded awful. “I thought you did the shopping yesterday.”

“I tried, but, with Robin missing… ” His shoulders sank. “I didn’t get much done.”

“Don’t act so pathetic,” Zoro advised, and tried to saunter past. The stupid cook caught him under the wings, and he fluttered helplessly. “Put me down! I’m made of Black Magic! I have to meet Kaisa and the others!”

“I don’t think so," said Sanji. "Afande told me ‘Black Magic’ is a misnomer, so you shouldn’t say that anymore. And a bunch of your corsairs already came and left. They’re at the shipyards today with Nami and Luffy. When were you supposed to link up?”

“Later. We're taking my cursed sword to a phony. I mean an expert.”

“Perfect, you can help me until then -- I know a place for lunch. The drunk old chef kind of reminds me of you. Without the, little wings, of course.”

“I said _no!”_ He growled. “I’d rather be caught _baby_ sitting than shopping with you -- ”

But there was no escaping, and after six seconds of wasted effort, Zoro clambered to his crewmate’s shoulder and slumped over it like a lazy gargoyle. The cook could carry him out the inn, at least. Distance was different when you weren't shit over two pounds and twelve inches tall. 

“What help will I be like this, anyway? I’m just going to fall asleep.”

“I’m hoping you’ll draw attention from the attractive ladies at the market. I'll tell them about our adventures, and my dreams, and find true love at last!”

“Moron.”

Sanji made his way to the exit, hands back in his pockets where they belonged. After a few minutes getting used to his stride, balancing wasn’t so hard. Zoro settled in. Sunlight broke softly over his Black Magic skin. Freedom from pain was a beautiful thing -- bless Kaisa, he thought, and her cache of wicked tricks. 

He flicked the back of the cook’s neck with the tip of a wing. “If you tell anyone I went shopping with you, I’ll burn your eyebrows into flat lines.”

“We can pretend it never happened.”

The wording triggered an outpouring of blocked memories and he groaned. “Why’d you have to say it like that?”

Sanji scowled. “Sorry. I wish I hadn’t. Didn’t mean to… remind you of anything.”

“Now you’re making it worse!”

“I know. _Ugh_. What’s wrong with me?”

Zoro crossed to his opposite shoulder. He discovered he could loop his tail over his neck for balance. “You like me,” he challenged, low and mocking. “You think I’m cute.”

“I want to kick you so bad.” 

A briny wind rustled over the boardwalk, just swift enough to cool the ears and ankles. The market welled with a miasma of noise, under-stepped by the constant chatter of the city’s quick-moving waterways, splashing bulls, and the back-talk racket of buying and selling. Zoro mustered a lick of flame and blew a hot breath at the cook’s neck.

His crewmate jumped. “Make yourself useful,” he offered him a cigarette. “If you’re going to act like that.”

Zoro popped his tongue against his teeth and the end sparked. 

“Neat trick,” the cook exhaled in soft ribbons. “You can fly around, talk shit, make fire, and at the same time your real body can heal. Are there any downsides?”

“You mean be _sides_ being completely helpless, and extra portable? It’d be pretty easy to get stuffed down like this.”

“Oh, so if you get hurt, then, will your body die?”

“Yes. I think so.” Zoro set his little talon feet in his shoulder and launched himself into the air, glided a short distance and hovered. He flexed his fists to his ears. “I’m a manifestation of raw being -- I’m fire and phlegm! What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to get snatched by a hungry seagull, if you keep flailing around like that.”

He made a hasty landing. Ducked behind the cook’s neck. He had a point. “I don’t flail,” he muttered. “You heard Kaisa, I’m the coolest thing to ever fall out of that jar!”

“She never said that.”

“I’m special. _I’ve_ got a big bounty.”

Sanji chewed the filter of his cigarette. “Just wait,” he warned. “I’ll be a bigger deal than you, soon.”

“Yeah, right. How many dragons have _you_ killed?”

“The sword did all the work. You got lucky.”

“When have I _ev_ er gotten lucky?” Zoro snapped, then double-thought, and backtracked. “Wait, forget I said that. I’ve been lucky before. Not that kind of lucky. I mean I’ve never been on the good, happy-ending side of things. This fatal _moon_ -sword business is gonna bite me in the ass, I know it.”

“...Your sword is the moon?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Just like the rest of them,” Sanji sighed, in a ribbing tone. “You never give a straight answer, moss-head. Maybe you should join their crew.”

“Hn? We’ve been over this, cook. It might seem suicidal and humiliating, but I’ve chosen to be a Straw Hat.”

The undercurrents of mask culture in Water Seven made commercial zones a bit spooky, but the shopkeeps and stall-owners were friendly enough. Sanji didn’t come off like an evil-doer, but the green thing lurking over his shoulder made him a small curiosity, and a swell of attention followed them through the market. The cook was offered extravagances at every turn: rare spice wands, gourd flutes, fancy knots, even a pair of enchanted oars in exchange for Zoro. One vendor offered up twenty pounds of prime South Blue tuna, and Sanji pretended to waver, but each time he discouraged traders with the assertion that his demon “familiar” was “completely brain-dead” and not worth a single sour olive. 

Old ladies gave Zoro figs, and walnuts to crack. Children smiled shyly after him and he bared his fangs. All in all it was a normal day at the market.

“We lost two people in less than two days,” Sanji murmured over a selection of water chestnuts, leeks, and water-water leeks. “And I’m bartering for vegetables. It all feels kind of surreal.”

Zoro fanned his wings to block the sun. Light in the waterside stall turn faintly green. “Tell me about it.”

“I guess it’s also because you don’t usually come shopping with me.”

“Because it’s boring as shit!”

“More boring than napping on a dirty rooftop.”

“Yes!”

“You’re terrible company, anyway.” He grumbled. “And I know it’s not that unusual, but I have this feeling like you’re drawing seedy looks.”

“Some people know Black Magic when they see it,” Zoro crossed the cook’s shoulders, and flicked his ear with the barb of his tail. “It’s not considered a good omen.”

“Huh? But it’s so cool. That must be why you’re not attracting any young women, though. I thought for sure that would work.”

“This might come as kind of a shock, but most people don’t like being around me as much as you do.”

“But I don’t like being around you at all.”

“See, case and point.”

Sanji sighed heavily. “Alright, _marimo_ , let’s break for food.”

“Your bartering earned you three potatoes and about fourteen lost arguments, cook.” Zoro observed. “You really don’t get much done on your own, do you?”

“I’ve been looking for Robin, actually,” he said, soft and mournful. “I wonder if Chopper’s having better luck.”

Zoro snapped his tail again. “Just because she’s gone a day, doesn’t mean she’s in any trouble, you know. I’d be more worried for Robin’s enemies.”

“No, she’s in trouble. I have this feeling she’s in trouble.”

“You think _all_ women are in trouble.”

“That’s not it!”

“News flash, cook. Sometimes hot girls don’t need saving. Maybe Robin _wan_ ted to leave. She’s capable of making her own choices, you know -- we all have to do it sometimes: make a choice, and deal with the consequences. If I went missing this long, nobody would give a damn.”

“That’s because it’s _you_ \-- ”

“See my point?”

“No! Robin is our friend! What are you saying, we should just forget about her?”

The cook reached and Zoro scampered to his opposite shoulder to avoid a pinch in the wing.

“All I’m saying is, we don’t even know her that well,” he said. “Kaisa did say one of us would defect, maybe she meant Robin.”

“What!” Sanji, betrayed. “So because the corsairs said it, it must be true. You trust her over us!”

“That’s not what I said!” Anger made him flush. Heat tripped in the pit of his throat. “But so what if I do? I sailed with them _way_ longer than Robin -- ” The pirate hunter lost his footing, slipped, snagged on the cook’s arm, and couldn’t flap free. “Captain Kaisa knows everything!”

He struggled to get back to his crewmate’s shoulder, wishing more than anything to draw his swords. But instead of leading into a fight like he expected, Sanji offered his hand. Zoro hooked his arms over his wrist and tried not to scratch as the cook lifted him to eye-level. 

“Little demon,” another sigh. “ _You_ sound like the defector.”

His eye reminded him of the sad dragon’s. Zoro kicked his talon feet. “You have the prettiest blue eyes. And the lousiest cigarette breath.”

Sanji lowered him back over his shoulder, and he flapped his way free. “I can’t decide if you’re sweeter or nastier with wings.” 

“ _I’m_ the same! You’re the one always dodging.”

“I think I saw Banban’s boat up this way,” he dodged. They were headed upstream in a slanted alley. “Try to keep a low profile. You’re always walking straight into things, _marimo_. With no thought about the consequences. We screwed up -- I think we screwed up, man, and that’s why the team fell apart.”

“Why’s it on _us?”_

“Because we’re the oldest, and the strongest! For the most part. What’s wrong with you? Two of our friends are gone and you’re acting like you don’t care.”

“No amount of emotional wailing is going to bring them back, Mr. _Prin_ cess. And, if you really want my opinion, this is all on the two of them, not us.”

“Now I remember why we never ask your opinion.”

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean. Just realistic -- Usopp left on his own power. And from the sound of it, Robin did, too. The change has to come from inside them, not us.”

“Maybe you’re right. They’re confused, they have to decide on their own which path to take. But even if that’s true, we can’t stop looking out for them. You can’t leave the people you care about in despicable hands.”

“Agreed.”

“I know you think I’m dodging, but I’m not. I’m talking about, um. Us, too. I mean you and me.”

“Cook,” Zoro rolled his eyes. “We’re still crewmates. I’m not going to stop caring about you just because you don’t want to make out.”

Sanji exhaled audibly. “Thanks, moss-head.” His ears went red. Zoro hardly got a second to enjoy it before hands reached back to fool with his wings. “That’s a relief, actually.”

“It isn’t permission to fuck with me!”

“Look,” he ignored him. “There it is -- Banban makes killer _onigiri_ , but if you like me at all you’ll pretend his cooking isn’t as good as mine.”

“ _Onigiri?_ Why didn’t you say so?” Zoro made a flying leap for the travelling food-boat, soared under the overhang and alighted on the bar with a soft _thump_. 

The old man snoring at the bow jerked awake with a rocky gurgle. He eyed Zoro like he had seven heads.

“Sake, old-timer,” he flicked his wings, irritated with the staring already. “I know you have some, I can smell it.”

The man made a big show of hobbling slowly behind the counter, but he shuffled out some glasses and a tall bottle, eyeing Zoro all the while. 

“Haven’t seen a conjuring on this level in a long while. Run into some hard luck, have you, lad?”

Zoro took his cup in both hands and bowed his head in thanks. “Not any more than usual.”

“That’s the spirit,” the man chuckled, sipping on his own draught of sake. He ignited the stovetop with the pull of a lever. “You must be some kind of warrior, with that attitude.”

“Name’s Zoro.”

“Like the pirate hunter?”

“Forget that, I’m going to be the best swordsman in the world!”

“Not on an empty stomach, you won’t. What’ll it be?”

Zoro jumped to his feet on the counter, accidentally sloshing sake on his toes. “Rice balls!”

A heavy weight fell over his head, and he tipped back onto his ass. Sanji ruffled his hair, and he scowled. 

“Banban,” the cook nodded to the old man. “Nice to see you upright and semi-conscious.”

“If it isn’t Redfoot Zeff’s pirate pup. Back for another lesson, eh?”

“Just lunch, for me and my friend, but I appreciate the offer. Maybe I can teach you, sometime.”

Banban snorted dramatically. “In your dreams. The only thing left to teach this old man is how to roll over and die quietly!” He refilled Zoro’s glass with a splash and a wink. Dude probably couldn’t see straight but he was chopping leeks like a gas-powered machine. Zoro grinned; he liked the old chef’s energy. 

“That’s a tough spell you’re under,” Banban mused. “The root doctor in the sixth ring might be able to help you, but whatever you do don’t go down that way alone -- you're likely to get snatched up, bottled and sold as a performance-enhancer.”

“I don’t need your help, pops. I’m not under any curse. The witch who did this is my friend.”

“Your friend?” He lifted his eyebrows. The smell wafting off the stovetop turned savory delicious. Green onions sizzled in hot oil. “What an interesting crew you have.”

Sanji flapped a hand. “It’s complicated.”

“A bit of advice, boys. This town has bad blood with the humorists; tell your friend to keep to themselves, and stay off the main track if you want to avoid trouble.”

“Why? What do you have against them?”

“Nothing, personally. Look around you, lad, what do you see? Exquisite utilitarian architecture, beautiful women, a flourishing market -- all of it way out here on the Grand Line, a beacon of order in the chaos! It didn’t get this way overnight. First, the government had to do the impossible: tame the underground; eliminate the black markets. The only way a city could run cleanly, they said, was through strict regulation, licensing, the carefully guided circulation of goods and services,” Banban slid an oblong dish toward Zoro, piled with steaming _onigiri_ in salted seaweed wrappings. He put the finishing touches on a rice bowl omelette for Sanji, and continued. 

“Water Seven identified an enemy, and spread it through the newspapers -- those who meddled in alchemy and the humors were labelled dangerous pariahs, undermining the community with curses and mischief.” He sat back with a huge sigh. “Was it true? I don’t know, but I miss seeing traces of conjure around town. After a few years of bad publicity, and some nasty squabbles with the masked elite, the last of the humorists disappeared, chased out of their homes with litigation and lies or driven down to the sixth ring to live among the debtors and drunks. It’s not illegal, anymore, and most folks around here are nice enough to look the other way, but that legacy remains.”

“These are the most amazing rice balls I’ve ever had.”

“Probably because they’re as big as your head.”

“You were right, Sanji, this guy is way better than you.”

“It’s the special salt!” The cook, boiling. “I can collect some in a few days, I just haven’t had a chance to cook with it, yet… ”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure salt’s gonna make a difference. You sure it’s not the technique?”

“What would you know about tech _nique!”_

His temper was building. Zoro wanted to mouth the salt from his lips, and wished he was back in his body, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Sanji probably didn’t think about kissing when they fought. And even if he did, he’d pretend like he didn’t.

“What are you thinking, now?”

He was staring too long. Zoro shook his head. “You don’t wanna know.”

The cook reached. He knocked a stray grain of rice from his chin. The pirate hunter pretended to snap his teeth after him, then yawned and stretched his wings. 

“Thanks for the meal, old man.” Zoro started the slow climb back to his crewmate’s shoulder. “And the sake.”

“Anytime, lads.” grunted Banban. He accepted a few coins from Sanji. “Good luck lifting that curse, master swordsman.”

“I’m _not_ cursed!”

Sanji stepped off the boat back to the docks, and the old chef drifted the current downstream. 

“Crazy old coot,” Zoro muttered. “Why would anyone make Black Magic illegal?”

“Because it scares people,” Sanji offered. “They don’t understand it.”

“Neither do I, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be run out of town. I could pick out a couple of fruit stalls back there more dangerous and imminent than Kaisa’s creepy tricks.”

“ _You’re_ one of those creepy tricks, right now, in case you forgot." Sanji hummed. "Let’s head to the inn. I think it's time to put you back together.”

Tired and sated, Zoro fell asleep in the warmth of his neck, and he didn’t wake until the flurry of a surprise ambush.

They were in that slanted little alley, again, this time strung with steep afternoon shadows. The first blow came from behind, and shook Sanji to his knees. The second knocked him out. Zoro had just enough time to promise every hazy silhouette a horrible, painful death, and made a last-ditch escape attempt that was easily thwarted -- the greatest swordsman in the world, caught by the tail and stuffed into a little bag.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus art
> 
>   
> shirt not for sale lol
> 
> thanks for your patience, friends.  
> summer term finals are in two weeks -- feeling cramped and ugly stressed.
> 
> <3


End file.
